


The Secret Nuptials of Harry Hart

by Arizonacolleen



Series: Sophie Hollander Guinevere Series [8]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 01:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12996954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arizonacolleen/pseuds/Arizonacolleen
Summary: How Harry and Sophie come to be married at long last.A new mission in the continued Sophie Hollander Guinevere Series





	1. Chapter 1

The bus pulled left, veering at intense speed as three henchmen held the doctor near the rail of the second deck. Doctor Mandeville flinched, refusing to answer the questions as the men threatened him and the bus approached the London Bridge. “They are almost on the bridge,” Merlin announced firmly, “do we have any agents within reach of them?”  
“Negative,” reported Bedivere.  
“ETA ten minutes,” responded Lancelot.  
“Fucking get on it then!” Merlin instructed, “If they reach the bridge we might not be able to stop them in time.” Merlin sipped his tea, surveying the map of London when a familiar voice interrupted his concentration. “Could I possibly be of assistance?” Sophie asked, lowering her copy of The Times as she listened in from the back of her cab. Merlin grinned as her tracker popped up on the map on London Bridge. “Guinevere,” Merlin replied, “quite the moment to play the bushelman.”  
“I was in the neighborhood,” Sophie said coolly, “just on my way to you.”

“Well,” Merlin instructed, “get on with it.” Sophie smiled, setting her newspaper to her side and reaching into the side console for a pair of gloves. As she rose from her seat, she slipped her hands into the gloves and gave a nod to the driver, who pressed a button to open the concealed sunroof above her. “Are you ready, Reginald?” Sophie asked happily. Reginald nodded, and Sophie lifted her head through the sunroof before jumping up, slamming the magnetized gloves onto the roof of the cab and pulling herself through the roof. Pulling her feet up to a squat, Sophie activated the magnetic lock in her espadrilles before releasing her glove and slowly steadying herself in a squat and rising to a stand as the cab weaved around traffic and approached the bus. Sophie watched as the henchmen backed Mandeville against the railing as the cab pulled alongside the taxi. “Almost, Reginald,” Sophie instructed, “forward just a few feet.” The cab pulled into position and Sophie positioned herself as she focused up at the figures overhead. 

As the henchman lifted the doctor, Sophie braced herself, firing at the henchman. He dodged the shot, causing him to release the doctor, who fell from the railing and into Sophie’s embrace. Sophie channeled the drop down into the cab, turning as she lowered him to the roof and holding him there. “Doctor Wilson Mandeville? My name is Guinevere, and I’m going to take you home.” Mandeville stared up at her, startled as she smiled back at him and reached past his head. “Mind your head, please,” she instructed, gently pushing him forward through the sunroof and into the cab. As he slipped into it, Sophie looked over her shoulder for any sign of return fire before she unlocked each foot and pulled herself through the sunroof. Tumbling smoothly into the cab, she smoothed her skirt before closing the roof and taking a seat beside the doctor. “You must be quite shaken,” she comforted, “but you are safe now. Can I offer you a drink to calm your nerves?” The doctor shook his head, lowering his gaze as Sophie nodded slowly. “Reginald? To HQ please.” She instructed, turning her body to the front and returning to her newspaper nonchalantly. “Would you like a section?” She offered without looking up.

 

As the doctor was ushered away by officers as Sophie made her way through the lower levels of HQ and into the Grail Pursuit office. There, she filed her return paperwork and checked any notes before submitting her decompression status. Sophie felt invigorated by the recent rescue, but the wounds of her last mission still plagued her, and she felt reluctant to join the group before a proper rest. She winced, a slight wheeze escaping her as her bruised rib shifted under her vest. Sophie looked in the mirror, noting her bruises and decided not to stop in on Edwin before she slipped away quietly and left for her home. She stepped into a taxi to ensure the underground transport did not throw her into any unwitting interaction with other agents. Though Sophie had grown to cherish her recent opportunities to spend with her fellow agents, she was still reluctant to allow them to see her in pain. She knew a single wince, and their gallantry would eclipse any hope of camaraderie. Best to avoid that scenario completely, she concluded. 

Sophie switched on the telly in her bedroom before walking down the hall in pursuit of her evening cup of tea. She switched on the kettle, thinking of her last exchange before her return to London. She had also been returning from a shower, entering her room when her attacker struck. She pulled the towel from her hair in her kitchen, her hand brushing past the swollen cheek where his fist connected in that initial blow, knocking her sideways as she emerged from the doorway into the studio apartment. She smirked, remembering that it was his last successful punch, as she returned with an aggressive kick to his face. As he recoiled from the blow, Sophie jumped onto his back, wrapping her legs around his shoulders and snatching the towel from her hair. She wrapped it around his neck as he struggled to pull at her legs or reach his pockets. As she squeezed the towel, her assailant backed himself full force against the wall, slamming her into it. Sophie slipped from her grip as he reared forward to slam her again, this time cracking her rib and causing her to drop the towel. As the attacker went for a third, finishing blow, Sophie snatched her bag from the rack along the wall. 

Reaching into it as it spilled across the floor, Sophie grasped the blank inhaler and dropped the rest of the bag. Lunging forward on his shoulders, Sophie placed the inhaler at his ear and depressed it as he slammed her against the wall and she tumbled from his shoulders. She landed on her knees, gripping her side as the intruder reached for his knife and flipped it open. The kettle switched off with an audible click, shaking Sophie from her train of thought and restoring her to the present. Sophie sighed, pouring the rested water over her loose tea in silence. Squeezing the remaining water from her hair, she carried the tea back to her bedroom and through to the bath to replace her towel. Resting her teacup on the bedside table, Sophie looked up to spy a figure standing on her balcony in the darkness. Curiously, she tightened the knot on her robe and walked over to the door. “What are you doing out here?” Sophie asked, leaning against the frame and looking out at the figure.

“I thought you might need this,” Harry answered, lifting a small jar from his overcoat pocket. He extended it to her, placing it into her palm as he stepped forward. “Hello Canary,” Harry whispered as she examined the jar. Sophie looked up at him, her expression serious if a bit gloomy as she turned back into her bedroom while he followed. “I wasn’t sure if you had any here at home, and after I read your dossier I knew you would need it.” He offered, stepping through the threshold and closing the door on the crisp October evening. “What does this do?” Sophie asked with a tone of defeat that puzzled Harry. She examined the glass but didn’t open it, rubbing her thumb across the Kingsman logo etched into the glass. “It hastens the healing of muscle and the recovery from deep bruising,” Harry explained, “It’s from our wash bag.” Sophie nodded but did not look up from his hands. “Surely you must’ve been given some during your recruitment…” Harry reasoned in an effort to jog her memory. 

“No,” Sophie responded flatly. She set the jar on the bed and gripped the corner of the bed in an attempt to maintain her composure. “Harry, forgive my impertinence, but you cannot simply show up outside my window unannounced. If my taking that liberty in the past is responsible I am sorry, but I need you to respect this space.” Harry was taken aback by her instruction, and unsure how to respond. “It is the happiest time I know, when I return home and you are there,” he said softly. Sophie looked up at him, and for a moment there was only silence. Standing to retrieve her tea, she took a healthy sip of it before clearing her throat. “I have also reveled in moments, retreating to you,” she admitted, “but if I have come back to this place and contacted no one I am _sequestered_. I need you to respect that.” Sophie looked into Harry’s eyes and wanted to immediately apologize and fold herself into his embrace, but she stopped herself. She was right to make her declaration, even if it made for awkwardness in this moment. “I’m sorry,” Harry offered simply, “I’ll leave you to your evening.” Harry turned to exit through the front door without further comment. He offered no retort to her request, only to honor it as quickly as possible.

“Is it topical?” Sophie asked before he could exit. Harry turned back to her as she opened the container and sniffed it lightly. “Yes,” Harry answered, “with a gentle rub into the area, it should work overnight to restore you.” Sophie shifted, trying to work out the mechanics of applying it herself silently as she looked at the contents. “I could apply it, if you like,” Harry offered lightly, “I’ll merely see to your bruises and be off. You don’t even have to talk. You could watch your programme and I’ll go as soon as you are taken care of.” Sophie’s shoulders dropped and she sighed softly. “You’ve come all this way to be kind and I give you a pranging,” she muttered, “I’m wretched, aren’t I?” Sophie rolled her eyes at herself before looking back at him. “You’re not,” Harry answered sincerely, “You are my favorite person, and you were right...to dress me down. I should have called.” Sophie smiled at him. It was a slight, self-aware gesture, and the first time she had done it since he arrived. Harry could feel his chest swell in the warmth of witnessing it. 

“May I remove my coat?” Harry asked as Sophie finished her tea.  
“Of course you may,” she replied, “Shall I hang it?”  
“No,” he dismissed, “it will be just fine here.” He tossed his coat lightly across the chair in the corner of Sophie’s room and walked around the bed. Claiming a pillow from the head of the bed and resting it at the foot facing the television, he patted it into place. “Make yourself at home and I’ll attend to the salve.” Harry instructed, rolling his sleeves to the cuff as Sophie opened and slipped out of her robe, exposing the deep purple and yellow tones which wrapped around her side and stretched down her back. She said nothing, gently stretching across the bed and resting her head against the pillow. “Have you seen this machine?” Sophie asked as Harry spread the salve between his fingers and gently brushed them along her back. “It records all of my programs while I’m away in one little box. I can catch up when I return.” Sophie pressed a button, and Alan Titchmarsh began narrating about the great gardens of England as Harry worked. "How interesting," Harry remarked.

He tried to work gently, easing away if Sophie winced softly as she relaxed at the sensation of his warm hands. When she shivered slightly, he paused and folded the duvet across her legs to warm her up. “Thank you my love,” Sophie offered, her drowsy words making Harry smile. He finished applying the mixture to each spot, and gently traced his fingertips along her black eye and cheek as she dozed calmly at the foot of the bed. Sophie sniffed, shifting and brushing her cheek across his lingering fingertips as she slumbered. Harry folded the duvet over her before switching the television off and collecting his coat. He draped it over his arm, turning back to take one last look at her face as she slept. Then he stepped quietly down the hall, replaced his coat, and left her apartment. He lingered at the door another moment before walking the the stairs and leaving the building.

 

“Edwin?” Sophie inquired as she entered the lab, “May I possibly request a bottle of this?” She lifted the small glass bottle, holding it near her nearly healed face. Edwin looked up, focusing through his magnifying glasses at her example. “Certainly,” he offered, “but aren’t you concerned about your allergy?” Sophie blinked a few times as Edwin lifted the magnifier from the band which affixed them around his forehead and left his desk to retrieve the empty bottle. “My allergies?” Sophie asked as she handed the bottle to him. “I was informed when you were a recruit to pack you a special wash bag,” Edwin answered, “that your allergies made some products unsuitable. I might’ve misunderstood Arthur’s instruction, but he seemed quite concerned about it.” Sophie nodded. Of course he did. “It must’ve been a simple confusion,” Sophie replied, “but in the future, could you please pack me a regular wash bag. Everything that Lancelot or Galahad might have included, please.” Edwin shook the bottle for emphasis and smiled, “Sure thing. I’ll have it ready in your drop for Monday.” Edwin walked away, his comment striking Sophie immediately.

“Monday?” She asked, walking over to Edwin’s call board and finding her name listed with ‘Monday - 1400’ written upon it. She scanned it for a location, but saw nothing more. “Monday.” she admitted shaking her head, “Whatever was I thinking? Of course. Thank you Edwin.” Edwin looked up, with a fleeting glance as she smiled. “Oh! Edwin, the toxin canister,” Sophie recalled, her attention refocused on the business of the visit. Edwin immediately abandoned his research and turned to her. She lifted the inhaler, now in a sealed plastic bag, and set it onto his workstation. “Smashing success,” she said merrily, “saved my life.” Edwin’s eyes lit up and she smiled, rolling her shoulders a bit and bringing a bit of animation to her explanation. “I exposed the subject during an altercation, but was knocked to the ground in the action. As he approached me, knife in hand, your toxin went to work and he dropped dead mere inches from me. It was most impressive.” Sophie decided to redact being freshly from the shower or her near nudity. How much excitement could one engineer be expected to endure, after all? 

“You agents…” Edwin exclaimed, “must be so exciting out there in the thick of it all.” Sophie shrugged, “Edwin, in the thick of it I am seldom grateful for anything so much as I am your genius.” As he blushed, Sophie knocked upon his desk for measure before turning to take her leave of him. “Until Monday!” Edwin called as Sophie smiled and exited the lab and walked with determination to the boardroom to investigate her new mission. She passed from the transport into the back corridor of the shop when Arthur saw her. “Guinevere!” he called, “Already prepping for your next departure I see. I was just saying to Bedivere, ‘she may look tired but she always comes through for us’ and I am absolutely right.” Sophie had hoped her feelings concerning this man might soften over time, but discovered instead that some people put such energy into crafting themselves as bastards that it simply demands acknowledgement. There was no poetry to this - she hated him. Embittering her further was the suspicion that he delighted in her hatred, and denying it was her only recourse. 

“I do try,” Sophie remarked as sweetly as possible.  
“And we appreciate those efforts immensely,” Arthur condescended seamlessly.  
“It’s just that,” Sophie began, choosing her words as carefully as possible, “having only returned from my previous mission yesterday means I would only have three days of decompression. That doesn’t meet the requirements for decompression as I understand them, which requires at the minimum a week before another mission.”  
“You have left decompression early in the past,” Arthur countered, “for Lancelot I believe. Is there something...special about your relationship with Lancelot that makes you more capable to the task when he requests it?”  
Lancelot heard his name, walking over curiously as Arthur looked down at Sophie in an effort to be intimidating. “What was for me?” He asked, “Hello Guinevere.”  
“I was just curious why Guinevere seems able to leave decompression in some occasions yet not in others. I understand the bruising but naturally thought a bit of makeup could cover that. Are you overtired perhaps? With maturity can come fatigue.” Arthur asked, his tone artificial.

“I am half your age,” Sophie replied, momentarily losing her temper before pressing her nails into her palm and slowing her breath to regain her composure. Arthur chuckled, not addressing her slight but clearly seeing it. “One could say I’m twice the agent,” he commented pleasantly as Sophie lowered her gaze. “Perhaps it’s my more...agreeable way of asking for her assistance.” Lancelot interjected. He looked over at Arthur, his tone sardonic through his swagger.  
“Silly me, expecting the order to stand,” Arthur joked, “without personal appeal.”  
“So they shall,” Sophie responded, “I did not in any way imply I was incapable of reporting to my mission. I will return Monday at midday, ready to return to the field.” Sophie looked directly at him, her steely gaze meeting his without reservation or reluctance.  
“I look forward to your reports,” Arthur said smoothly.  
“Yes,” Sophie replied, “Excuse me gentlemen.” Sophie turned and walked away before any further comment could be made. She exited the shop, leaving the two men together in the corridor. “One might say you’re twice the agent,” Lancelot said curtly, “but I doubt anyone would accuse you of being twice the gentleman.” Lancelot placed his hands in his pockets and left Arthur standing there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie and Harry discuss their tastes in classical music, and Harry helps her let off a bit of steam.

Harry opened the door, his bowl of treats at the ready as Sophie stood in the doorway in her trenchcoat. “Canary,” he began cheerily, “please come in.” Sophie walked past as he looked down the path for any approaching children before closing the door. “May I make you a drink?” Harry offered as Sophie stepped over to the coat closet. “Please,” Sophie responded, unbelting her coat slowly and resting her umbrella in the rack by the door when there was a chime of the doorbell. Sophie went to the door to spare Harry, who was still at the bar mixing her drink, and opened it to two small children. “Trick or treat!” they called up to her, their arms extending open bags to her. “This is not America,” Sophie said bluntly, closing the door on the children without hesitation. She looked up at Harry, who held her martini as he stared in disbelief at her rudeness. “Canary!” He said, disapprovingly. Sophie said nothing, turning her back to Harry and shedding her trench coat before placing it into his coat closet. She stood there in champagne silk, her lingerie hugging to her curves as she turned back to face him. “Do you like it?” She asked seductively, “It’s Rigby and Peller.” 

Harry said nothing, tipping back her martini in a single drink as he observed her from the dining room. His reaction made her smile, walking over to the edge of the dining table and resting against it. Harry looked down at her now empty glass, turning in his fingers for a moment as he considered in which direction to turn when Sophie called to him, “Come to me Harry.” Sophie removed her glasses, setting them onto the table as Harry abandoned the glass and met her at the edge of the table. There he stepped between her open knees and slowly kissed her, taking her cheek into his hand as she gripped the end of his tie. The door chimed again and was ignored by both as Harry’s attention drifted from her lips down to her neck. “Shall we move to the bedroom my love?” Harry mumbled sweetly, in between nuzzles but Sophie shook her head. “Here,” she moaned, pulling him against her. She continued to hold Harry’s tie, and seemed unwilling to look him in the eye - which caused Harry concern. He attempted to caress her chin and look into her eyes, only to have Sophie nibble at his thumb before laying back across the table and resting her spike heel on his shoulder. 

Looking at her ankle as it rested on his shoulder, Harry’s eyes drifted down her leg to meet her face. “Sophie…” he started, concerned, “is something the matter?” Sophie looked up at the ceiling, breathing slowly. “I don’t have very much time Harry,” she replied, “I don’t want to waste it.” Sophie’s chin trembled, and she closed her eyes as she rested a calming hand on her stomach. Harry grasped her knee, gently kissing her ankle as he lowered her leg to his side slowly. Sophie sniffed once to steady herself, finally bringing her gaze to meet Harry’s as he stood before her. He offered his hands, taking her wrists and gently pulling her forward to face him. “What do you mean, you don’t have time?” Harry asked her, leaning down to keep her gaze. “Monday,” Sophie admitted, “I return to the field on Monday.” Sophie looked at Harry, who seemed puzzled by this information. “Three days?” Harry replied, “How can that be?” Sophie shrugged, “Arthur has already put in the drop order with Edwin. I report Monday at noon.” Sophie leaned forward, resting her forehead against Harry’s jawline and sighed heavily. 

“Well, that is not acceptable,” Harry reasoned, “I’ll take it up with Arthur myself if I have to, as a senior agent.” Sophie lifted her head, resting her hands on his shoulders. “No, no,” she instructed, “I spoke to Arthur, and he immediately questioned me about my relationship with James.” Harry wrinkled his brow, considering her comment. “What relationship with James?” He inquired, to which Sophie shrugged flippantly. “I don’t know,” she commented, “the point is he will throw the suspicion of a relationship after a challenge. I don’t want that speculation between us. I know he’s just using it to silence me, but I don’t want you to have to rescue me in this.” Sophie kissed Harry’s chin, “I just wish I didn’t feel bested, but Arthur does enjoy his petty torments.” Harry stood there, contemplating this new information as Sophie slid to the edge of the table to be closer to him. He was livid, but worried that expressing it might only upset Sophie further and spoil what little time they shared.

“This ensemble,” Harry asked, admiring her lingerie, “did you wear it all the way from home?” Sophie looked down over her lingerie, “Yes. Do you like it?” Harry kissed her temple, turning to walk away from her and to the coat closet. “I do,” he answered, stopping in the hall and turning back to her. “Get your coat,” he instructed, “we’re going out.” Sophie hopped to her feet, standing in the doorway bewildered at his sternness. “Guinevere,” he asserted, “fall out.” Sophie watched as Harry walked up the staircase, leaving her without further explanation before she stepped to the closet and retrieved her coat. As she fastened it closed to cover the lingerie, Harry returned, reaching past her to collect his overcoat. He grasped his umbrella and opened the door, stepping back for Sophie to exit before him. “Come along, Guinevere,” he ordered calmly. Sophie was puzzled, but observed his directive as he followed her out and walked to the street to hail a cab. Climbing inside the cab, Harry took a seat beside Sophie and looked to the driver. “Good evening,” Harry called, “Dalston, please.” 

“Dalston?” Sophie whispered. Harry looked at her, his austere expression rendering her silent. She looked forward, saying nothing as she tried to figure what her partner was doing when Harry silently laid his hand atop hers in the dark of the cab. The warmth of his hand radiated over hers, and she felt calm as they journeyed to east London. The cab stopped, and Sophie stepped out over the trash that littered the street, making her way to the pavement. Harry followed, stopping at the first pub that didn’t have a doorman. “This should do,” Harry commented, walking into the smoky and sparsely populated locale. “I’ll attend to pints, but would you mind acquiring a snooker table?” Harry requested innocently. Sophie nodded, still unclear but walking over to do as she was asked. However, when the first man grabbed her backside, Sophie looked up to discover Harry watching and everything clicked. “Do you mind?” She asked angrily, looking back at her aggressor as she palmed a ball from the table. As he went for a second grope, Sophie smashed the ball into his face, following the blow with a punch to his throat which dropped him immediately.

As his friends rushed her, Sophie threw the ball directly at the second assailant and intercepted the pool cue swung to her right, throwing the end up into the face of the man holding it and snatching it from him. Wielding it as a staff, she pinned him down, kicking another attacker and swinging the staff to knock him out. She spun around, taking stock of the now bleeding and unconscious group. Sophie looked up at the neighboring table, where three men stared at her in shock. “Dreadfully sorry,” Sophie offered, “but one really shouldn’t take liberties with a lady. It’s most unbecoming.” They continued staring as she rested the cue upon the table and stepped over the pile of scoundrels meekly. She walked over to Harry, who sipped his Guinness calmly. “You weren’t much help there,” she said softly as she stood beside him. He set his glass before her, offering her a sip. “Because you are Guinevere,” he whispered, “you don’t need anyone to rescue you.” Sophie smiled timidly, lifting his glass and taking a small sip. She savoured it slowly, tracing her fingers down the perspiring glass as Harry paid the tab. 

“Thank you Galahad,” Sophie whispered gratefully, “for the reminder.” The barman returned with Harry’s change and he rested a small package of paracetamol on the bar. “Terribly sorry for all of this,” he apologized, firing an amnesia dart at the barman and watching as he faded behind the bar. “Is this a thing you do often, instigating fights with the odd rogue?” Sophie asked, looking over the bar at the unconscious man. She looked at Harry, who finished his pint quickly. “That would be grossly irresponsible of someone,” he answered, “however satisfying it might prove.” He looked at her, a slightly mischievous smirk on his face. “Shall we take our leave?” He turned, offering for her to leave first. “I assure you, he will be fine. Enjoy your evening,” she called to the remaining group as they retreated from the bar. They stepped back out into the night, turning up the collars of their coats and walking quickly along the street in search of another cab. Sophie flagged one, and Harry rested his hand at the small of her back as he opened the door for her. She took her seat with renewed zeal, pleasantly giving the driver Harry’s address.

Sophie sighed, settling into the seat and looking ahead as Harry silently rested his large hand just above her knee. She said nothing, uncrossing her legs and relaxing them in front of her. Her invite was clearly interpreted, as Harry lifted his palm, tracing his fingertips lightly back and forth as he inched slowly along her thigh. Sophie’s heart pounded in her chest as she drew a deep breath and released it slowly in a barely audible sigh. “I just purchased an excellent new record,” Sophie remarked casually, keeping her focus on the road ahead as Harry stroked the inside of her leg. “Oh?” Harry replied, his tone even and his voice low as he gently squeezed her delicate flesh between his fingers, “Yes,” Sophie continued, “Gustav Holst performed at the University of Cambridge. ‘The Planets’, with their constant driving build toward crescendo. It’s quite good.” Sophie closed her eyes, feeling the ridges of his somewhat rough fingertips as they explored in the darkness of cab journey. She held her breath, certain he could hear her heart from his seat as it stirred wildly within her. 

“I rather fancy the softer composers,” Harry remarked coolly, “Tchaikovsky for example. Something about an overture that, while enticing in its own right, merely wets the palette for a greater satisfaction to come.” Sophie looked at his face, watching the streetlights dance across it as they continued along. She wanted to kiss him, but resisting that urge was proving to be rewarding in it own right. “How true,” she reasoned, “though I suppose it makes an intimate exchange, opening yourself up to the symphony and trusting where it will take you.” Harry glanced back at her momentarily, “I don’t know,” he commented, “a great composer and an experienced conductor are quite a powerful coupling. Such a thing is almost certain to prove magical.” Harry took a final swipe, drawing his nails faintly down the inside of Sophie’s leg to the knee and leaving her just as the cab pulled to the corner of Stanhope Mews. “Thank you very much,” Harry said, slipping the cash from his wallet through the window to the driver as Sophie stepped from the cab. They said nothing as the walked to his flat in the night, and as he opened the door for her she unfastened her coat in the foyer relieved to be alone with him again. 

“Just one more thing,” Harry said pleasantly as Sophie shed her coat from her shoulders. Turning and wrapping his arm around her lower back, Harry pulled her tightly against him and stared into her eyes. “That,” he said sternly, “is where we have crepes and Sunday lunch.” He pointed the the table to illustrate his point. “We are not reprobates. We do not fornicate in alleyways or on furniture and debase ourselves. I…” he paused, swallowing as he looked down at her, “I wrap you in silk. I bathe you in light. I worship at the altar of your loveliness and when we make love, it is joyous.” He slipped his hand up her back and gently gasped her hair, “Do you understand, Guinevere?” Sophie pressed her lingerie to his tight midsection and held to his arms. “I have never wanted anything as much as I want you right now,” Sophie gushed, breaking out in goose flesh as Harry leaned down and kissed her slowly. “Well,” Harry said, brushing his nose down the bridge of Sophie’s nose, “shall we move to the bedroom, my dearest one?” Sophie smiled, nodding as he hugged her to him, squeezing her tightly.

With her still in his embrace, Harry began lumbering toward the bedroom. Sophie giggled softly, bending her knees and tucking her legs up as he carried her held tightly against his muscular chest. Taking one step up onto the footstool he leaves for Sophie, he set her onto the edge of the bed and released her there. He stepped down, walking over to his bureau and slowly removing his tie as he looked at her reflection captured in the mirror. “You asked me if I liked your ensemble,” Harry mused, wrapping his tie around his hand as he gazed at her. Sophie leaned back on her arms, elongating her frame and allowing the silk to drape across her flat stomach. “Rigby and Peller,” Sophie boasted, “where the queen shops. I needed a pick me up after the news today.” Harry sat beside the bureau, removing each oxford and placing into the space at the bottom of his wardrobe. “It’s uncanny,” he commented, resting his hands on his knees as he rose to his feet, “simple pieces of fabric become something mystical when allowed to rest over those curves. What secrets do they keep? What otherworldly bliss do they contain?” Harry stepped in front of Sophie, allowing the tie to unfurl from his palm and spill across her lap. “Could I possibly prove lucky enough to get that close myself?” He concluded, covering her eyes with his tie.

As he tied the ends together behind her head, Sophie leaned in to steal a brief kiss from his lips before he rested a hand over her heart. “Patience, my pet,” he soothed, “I’ll be right back.” With that, he gently pushed her chest, guiding her back onto the bed. He lifted her foot, holding her ankle as he stripped the delicate strap and pulled the heel away before switching feet. Resting the shoes on the floor, Harry turned and exited the room as he unbuttoned his shirt before returning from the washroom shirtless. He tenderly covered each foot with a hot washcloth, removing his trousers as Sophie moaned softly at the sensation. “Such an untidy area, Dalston.” Harry lamented, massaging away the dirt from each of Sophie’s feet before laying them onto the bed, “but not without its moments.” He set the second foot onto the bed, running his hand up her calf before tossing the washcloths into the hamper and climbing over her in the bed. Sophie pushed herself further onto the bed with her feet as he uncovered her stomach and nuzzled her midsection.

Sophie ran her fingers through his soft hair and Harry felt her trembling as he kissed his way up her chest. “My word,” he murmured, “you do seem eager my dearest.” He nibbled her neck when Sophie whimpered softly. “It’s not enough time,” Sophie sighed, “two days is not long enough my love.” Harry ran his thumb across her lips, and she playfully bit it as he kissed her neck. She grasped his hand, still blindfolded by his tie and sighed. “What am I going to do without you?” She whispered. She traced her fingers along his, and Harry lifted his head from her neck. “And you’re absolutely certain I shouldn’t have a word with Arthur?” Harry asked a final time. Sophie lay there, silent for a moment as she played with his hand. “You’re right,” Sophie said softly, “I don’t need to be rescued. I do love that you want to however.” Harry sat up, taking her hand in his. “Well, would you like to know what I will do instead?” He asked sweetly. As Sophie nodded, he kissed the back of her hand, then each of her fingers.

“I am going to make every single moment of this weekend count,” he informed her, “and we still have a great many moments before Monday.” He kissed her wrist, and then rested his hand on her stomach, “I’m going to rub your feet, and kiss your lips. I’m going to make those crepes you like and hold you close to me as you drift to sleep. So all you need to do…” he coaxed, pulling the tie from her eyes, “is just keep looking to me. I’ve got you.” Harry stroked her hair, brushing it from her face, “I have you, and we have plenty of time.” Sophie’s lips quivered, but she gave a certain, single nod. She touched his face and smiled, “My God, but you are handsome. You just keep getting more handsome.” Harry blushed, and she leaned up to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her, leaning into her as she ran her fingernails down his back. “Harry…” Sophie moaned, her breathing intense. Harry kissed her chin, then her neck and shoulder. “Yes Canary?” He replied between kisses.  
“Put the blindfold back,” she requested. 

Harry looked up at her impishly, grabbed the tie and sat up to replace his playful blindfold. “You are never without me Canary,” Harry assured her, “I’m always with you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Typical Saturday in the Hart household, to be honest

Sophie stirred slightly, her face safely enveloped against Harry’s shoulder as she slept. He gently brushed her hair away with his fingertips as he studied her relaxed expression. She was correct - Arthur was never going to give her a fair shake. Harry could see that now, but he also knew that at this moment what was most important was Sophie. Caring for his beloved was as elemental in her having success in a mission as being properly kitted out. Sophie sniffed loudly, murmuring as she looked up at Harry. “Good morning Canary,” he cooed down to her as she stretched, “ready to rise and face the morning?” Sophie grimaced, buried her face in his chest and replied, “No.” Harry grinned, stroking her hair as she squeezed tightly against him. “Well...alright,” Harry conceded, “but I do think if we lay here all day it might feel as though we squandered the day once Monday comes.” Sophie groaned her reluctant acknowledgement of his point, lifting her face enough to glance up at him. 

“I tell you,” Harry offered convivally, “I’ll make a deal with you. I will leave you here to rest a bit longer while I make those crepes you like so much for breakfast.” Sophie rolled onto her back, stretching her arms and resting them atop the duvet at his proposal. “And in return?” she replied curiously. “In return,” Harry answered, slipping her engagement ring onto her finger and lacing his between hers, “for the next two days, you are simply Sophie Hollander: the brilliant, gorgeous fiancee of a very lucky tailor.” Sophie glanced from the ring back to Harry’s loving expression before giving a meek nod in response. “Very good,” Harry affirmed, kissing her temple as he climbed over her in bed. “Back to sleep with you,” he instructed, tying his robe and leaving Sophie in the bedroom. Sophie turned the ring slowly around her finger, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to feel the time passing, thereby slowing it down. She never thought she could be torn between two things she loves so terribly much; but while she felt as though her joy should be boundless, instead she felt despondent. Then, she felt ungrateful, which she loathed.

 _Am I merely inconstant?_ Sophie prayed silently, pondering in the quiet of the bedroom while her beloved worked away in his kitchen. _If these things fail to make me happy, what more could I expect from this life?_ Sophie closed her eyes, squeezing her ringed finger in her opposite hand and hoped for solace as she prayed. _Please show me how to be better,_ she prayed, _for everyone who depends on me. Please show me that what I’m doing is right._ As that thought passed through her mind, she heard Elgar in the next room and smiled. Curiously, she rose from the bed and pulled her slip over her head before creeping silently from the room to find Harry working. Harry stood at his countertop, slicing fruit to blend together and garnish the crepes in his pajamas. Sophie said nothing, leaning up onto her toes the place a gentle kiss at the back of Harry’s neck between his shoulder blades before turning and resting against the counter. 

“I can’t decide,’ Sophie contemplated, “do I want to pop round to the National Gallery and admire the Turner collection or do I wish to while away in a long hot bath and enjoy having nothing to do?” Harry walked to his bar, bending to retrieve an old bottle of Armagnac before returning with it to the kitchen. Dusting the fruit with a spoon of castor sugar, Harry poured a generous splash of the fragrant liquor over it and gave it a stir. “Why not both?” He suggested quizzically. Sophie stared ahead, through the dining room to Mr. Pickle in the loo. He stared back at her with no emotion. “Not enough hours in the day I suppose,’ she answered simply. She peered into the bowl as Harry turned his attention to his skillet, stealing a piece of mango from the compote and taking a bite. Moaning as the flavor blossomed on her tongue, she rested her forehead against Harry’s shoulder as he spread the batter around the skillet. “Take a seat my love,” he whispered, “breakfast is almost ready.” 

Sophie sat at the perfectly set table, helping herself to a glass of the fresh orange juice as Harry bustled around cooking. She always felt so pampered by his doting, but she knew Harry adored having every element just so when having a meal. She imagined him sitting alone at this table, enjoying a meal while she was away on any of her missions and smiled. Perhaps some things change, but Harry Hart was not one of them. When one is so close to perfection, change is simply unthinkable. Harry set the serving platter onto the table, turning and walking through the dining room and disappearing up the staircase without comment. Sophie placed her napkin into her lap silently, waiting for Harry to return when he descended from the first floor carrying a large book. He set a stand onto the table and placed he book into it, allowing Sophie to examine the large Turner print displayed there. “Oh my goodness,” Sophie whispered, leaning in to study the high quality print in Harry’s book, “I love this painting.” Harry smirked as he spread a generous spoon of fruit over his crepe, “I thought you might.” 

“You’re my world,” Sophie murmured, her sight not leaving the painting but her hand resting between them at the corner of the table. Sophie looked back at him slowly, having felt his hand rest upon hers, “Do you know that?” Harry grinned at the comment despite himself, returning to his breakfast as Sophie paused before dressing her own. “Flattering as that charge might prove, I must admit I doubt it. You have a terrifically successful career, and you are devoted to your parrish. Your world is too exquisite a thing for me to keep entirely to myself.” Sophie took a bite of her crepe, her eyes enthusiastically going wide as she chewed slowly. “That may well be,” she considered, “but every other place and person feels like work to me. You are the only place I feel at home. With you, I mean. I’m still an orphan everywhere else.” Sophie took another bite, pausing pleasantly as she chewed and looked back at The Parting of Hero and Leander while Harry considered her remark. In another, the echo of sadness that chased Sophie’s musings could seem intended to draw attention. However, knowing her as he did, Harry knew that not to be her intention at all. She would be mortified to think that, and her remarks only reflected her unique comfort in his company. 

“In that case, you are always home,” Harry assured her, “for you are always in my heart; and though I cannot say you are my world I can say with absolute certainty that you are all the love in it.” Sophie smiled, turning back to Harry as he chewed his breakfast. She felt the warmth rise in her cheeks as she returned to her breakfast, sneaking glimpses of Harry as she ate. His mirth evident from lifting Sophie’s spirits, he leaned to the corner and whispered to her, “In fact, if I may make the meagerest of requests?” Sophie dabbed her napkin to her lips before leaning in to meet him. He took her hand in his, looked her in the eye and said softly, “Cheer up already? Nobody likes a moaning Myrtle.” Caught off guard by his frank and well delivered quip, Sophie burst into stunned laughter, resting her head onto his wrist as her shoulders quivered from laughter. “Quite right,” she chortled, “absolutely.” She looked up to find his expression still serious, with the slightest hint of humour as he continued, “I’m going to draw you a bath after this, and when that gin opens I will be expecting you knees up. It’s the very least you could do.” 

Sophie lifted, her smile enormous as she looked at him. “Perfect,” Harry complimented coolly, “you know, when you set your mind to a task it’s quite impressive.” Sophie returned to her breakfast, her shoulders still bobbing here and there in quiet amusement as she ignored his last remark. They finished breakfast and Harry refreshed the press, pouring her another cup of coffee as she rubbed his slippered foot with her bare one. “So drink up, and then I’ll draw your bath. Once you’ve had everything you desire, we’ll settle in the sitting room, have a lovely gin and enjoy our Saturday together.” Sophie sipped her coffee, charmed at the proposal as she continued massaging her toes across the top of Harry’s slipper. “That sounds wonderful,” she replied with a suggestive smirk, “would you have it with me Harry?” Sophie looked at him, sipping her coffee as he looked up from his cup at her, his expression boyish. “Well, I…” he stammered softly, “I could never refuse my fiance an indulgence.” Harry took a sip of his coffee, his eyebrow raised for emphasis, “...if she really wanted to share a bath, I suppose I’d be compelled to indulge her.” 

“Good,” Sophie said flatly, stretching in her chair. She began to collect her plate, only to have Harry stop her in protest. Realizing it to be a fight she could not win, Sophie relented and stood, thanking him with a simple kiss before she stepped from the table. “Harry?” she called from the threshold of the dining room. Harry looked up as Sophie slipped the straps of her slip off her shoulders, letting it cascade down her curves to the floor and leaving her nude as she stood with her back to him in the threshold. Feeling his adoring stare wash over, Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Nevermind,” she said flippantly, turning and walking into the hall and leaving Harry’s sight. Harry merely sat there, the image lingering in his mind as he smiled mischievously. He swallowed hard, stood, and began clearing the table, sneaking glimpses of the fallen slip as he worked. Once finished, he collected the Chanel scented silk and continued to the washroom to attend to the bath. 

 

Sophie leaned forward, twisting the tap and mingling the water as the hot poured in and rewarmed her bath. She sipped her coffee, drawing her knees up to her chest as she reached for the tap to cease the water when her glasses chirped. Sophie set the cup down, grasping her glasses and looked up to the ceiling. “Hello Merlin,” she called, “no, it’s not malfunctioning, I’m in the bath.” Sophie felt the warm water flow over her back, leaning back against Harry’s chest as she stared up at the ceiling. Harry said nothing, sponging her shoulders and squeezing the warm water over her. “Yes, I see. I return there Monday to push that along.” She replied, “Send the forms along and I’ll review them and make the call. Thank you, Merlin.”

“I have to go back to Italy,” Sophie explained, setting the glasses on the shelf along the edge of the tub, “I might need assistance though. Someone under me in the firm.” Sophie lay back against his chest and sighed while Harry lifted her arm and drew the sponge over it tenderly.  
“I’ve done some of my very best work under you.” Harry said playfully. Sophie turned back and stared at Harry incredulously. Harry simply kissed the back of her hand. Sophie shook her head, laying it back against Harry’s shoulder, as he continued happily dabbing along her upper chest with the sponge, kissing her temple as she cuddled against him. “I could go with you.” Harry offered. Sophie smiled, stopping his arm with hers and holding it against her. “Would you?” she asked.

Harry released the sponge, slipping his hands down her body and gripped her inner thighs. Sophie moaned softly as his right hand cupped her and began stroking slowly, kissing her temple. Sophie craned her neck, connecting to Harry’s mouth in a slow passionate kiss. She wrapped her right hand around his head, lightly pulling his hair as he placed gentle kisses along her cheekbone and ear. “Tell me you want me Canary,” he whispered silkily, his long fingers plunging deeply into her. “Are you kidding? You’re the best agent I know, of course I…” Sophie started, realizing what he meant with an embarrassed chuckle, “Yes,” she sighed, “a million times, always, yes my love.” Harry continued stroking her as Sophie lowered her arms, relaxing against his chest as her lips brushed against his lustfully. “I always want you,” Sophie moaned, “You’re all I want. Oh god Harry, please touch me.” Harry rested his lips against her temple, granting slight kisses as Sophie writhed between his body and touch in ecstasy. 

Sophie moaned, her eyes closed and her back arched as her backside rubbed against Harry’s erection. “I’m...sorry my love,” she panted with a slight giggle, “how rude of me to tease you.” Harry gripped her firmly, pressing his palm gently across her clit as his nimble fingers played against her in quick pulses. “I forgive you,” he whispered, “just come for me pet. I want to hear you scream...my...name.” Harry wrapped his right arm around her and held her tightly to him as she trembled, cooed and cried out to him in bliss. “Let’s get you out of this tub and by the fireplace,” Harry instructed, “before you catch a chill.” He slipped his hand under her backside as Sophie licked her lips, swallowing to moisten her throat after her panting before he lifted her over the side of the bath and to her feet. With a mild shiver, she wrapped a towel around her shoulders and turned back to look at Harry in the tub. She said nothing, just stared down at in purest admiration until he commanded, “Off to the radiator to warm yourself. I’ll be along shortly.” Sophie held the towel snugly, turned and dutifully exited the room, making her way to the bedroom. 

“Do you really think they’ll let you work with me on this?” Sophie called from the bedroom, tucking the towel snugly around her and shaking out her ringlets. “Let me?” Harry replied calmly, walking through to the bedroom in his robe with a small towel around his neck, “Who’s going to stop me?” Sophie said nothing, looking back to meet his confident expression with a beleaguered one. “Worry not, my love,” Harry said certainly, “I’ve given you my word.” Sophie blinked a few times, tapping her comb against her lips as she considered his remark. She said nothing, walking over and hugging Harry tightly. With her face resting against his chest, Harry looked down at her, pleased. “That’s it Canary. You leave it all to me.” Sophie added a final squeeze before turning back and leaving the room to dress in the guest room where she kept a secret stash of clothes for just such occasions. She did not want her possessions to upset their cover, so Harry built a trap compartment for her in the guest bedroom. Harry could be quite considerate that way. 

Sophie checked that her bra did not peek over her blouse before she left to join Harry in his sitting room. Her bare feet crept across the hardwood floor as she walked into the room and cuddled on the sofa. She watched Harry stir her martini, his crisp white collar laying against his blue cardigan as he happily poured her drink. He looked up at her, his expression intense as he smoldered in his adoration. “Martini?” he offered, “or would the lady prefer a bit of tonic on this lovely afternoon?” Sophie shrugged her shoulders, dropping her head back and exposing her clavicle and neck as she considered. “Hm...” she pondered aloud as Harry admired her form from the bar. “Whatever you are having, love,” she responded, gazing up as her head draped over the armrest of the sofa. Harry walked over, his posture a perfect contrast to her ease, and handed her the martini glass. “Actually, while you enjoy this,” Harry proposed, “I must leave you and run a few errands before dinner.” 

Sophie sat up, accepting the drink with a bemused expression. Her pout was well received, as Harry countered with a gentle kiss. “Tis but the work of a few moments Canary,” he assured, “and while I’m out I will stop into Selfridge’s and collect a proper curry for you. I need a few essentials for Sunday lunch.” The prospect of curry brightened Sophie, and she took a slow sip of her martini as Harry stroked her hair before preparing to leave. “I’ll just pinch a book to read,” Sophie explained, gesturing to his bookcases, “hurry back my love.” Harry turned back at the door and flashed a confident smile, “One couldn’t bear to be away too long. Enjoy the book.” With that, Harry slipped through the door and out into the city. Though he had no intention of upsetting Sophie with the prospect, Harry was on his way to Kingsman HQ to sort having himself added to the drop order for Sophie’s mission. He had given his word, and meant to keep it, regardless of what Arthur might say on the matter. 

“A second agent?” Arthur commented, sipping his whisky, “That’s most unusual, don’t you think?” Harry looked over his tablet, doing his best to seem indifferent through his annoyance, “I don’t think it’s any more unusual than calling a first agent back in so quickly after deep cover.” Harry said, “If this mission is so important that we are suspending decompression, than certainly a second agent isn’t entirely unreasonable. After all, we work together all the time,” Harry reasoned aloud, “is there some reason you don’t think Guinevere deserves the same support?” Harry smacked his lips in a subtle display of smugness that filled the silence behind his question, but kept its blame shapeless. Harry had known Arthur a long time, and entered this conversation knowing it to be a negotiation with his pride. Harry saw both the good and the bad in Arthur, but in this endeavour there was simply no room for pragmatism. Sophie had turned to him needing, and that was that.

“I think it shows a great deal of confidence in Agent Guinevere, trusting her with such an important task.” Arthur answered coolly, “Why, has she spoken with you about it? I must admit, I hadn’t expected you two to be friends.” Harry ignored the comment, thinking on the best method of approach. “I don’t know how anyone could be friendly with Guinevere,” he dismissed, “she never seems to remain here any length of time. She came to me as a fellow Kingsman, and having studied the dossier I believe she’s correct in her assessment.” Harry took another sip of his whisky, pausing with a sigh before looking back at Arthur. “With respect Arthur, it is beginning to appear as though you bear an particular disdain for agent Guinevere, and though it might be nothing whatsoever I’m not the only one who has taken notice.” Harry’s expression was sober and his gaze direct as he spoke with Arthur. “When you make such a simple request impossible, you merely make the case seem more plausible.”

Arthur said nothing for a moment, lifting his glass but not drinking from it. “Does Guinevere think this?” he asked as he took a sip. Harry waited until the glass was tipped back before responding, “No, but Lancelot and Gareth share my opinion. We have all expressed concerns over our fellow Kingsman, and now I am bringing those concerns to you, in confidence. So that you may consider addressing them discreetly.” Arthur stopped, lowering his glass slowly at the information Harry had just given him. Turning the glass in his hand, he pursed his lips in consideration. “Do you think going on this mission will dispel these erroneous rumblings?” He asked curiously. Harry rested on the question - certain the game was won. “It would certainly be evidence to the contrary,” he supposed, “at least until something more salacious captures the subject of chatter at the club. It would be the smart move, in my opinion. That’s why I offered to assist Guinevere: it would quiet the murmurs and solve the problem.” Harry finished his whisky and set the glass on the table. 

“Well,” Arthur huffed, “I suppose it would smooth things over and we could all get back to work, so I’ll put in your drop order for this.” Arthur opened his tablet and typed away. “Thank you,” Harry smiled, sitting up, “I’ll be ready to report on Monday.” Harry stood, turning to leave as Arthur concluded, “At least with you going I don’t have to worry about fraternizing. I’m still uncertain about her and Lancelot.” Harry stopped in the doorway, his back to Arthur and his anger plainly splashed across his face. “And perhaps in the future, Arthur,” Harry offered, “refrain from...comments like that.” Harry looked back at Arthur momentarily, blinked twice, and left him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long weekend comes to an end, and Guinevere and Galahad report to their first mission together.

Sophie gripped the bottle of No. 3 as she paced through the dining room when the front door opened and Harry entered, carrying two large woven grocery bags. “Canary,” Harry greeted happily as he set his bags onto his dining table, “how lovely you look this afternoon.” Sophie presented the large bottle with a slight sway as she replied, “Good afternoon you gorgeous tailor person. I..” she paused, leaning against the table gently, “have run out of gin.” She shook the bottle for emphasis, twisting her bare foot inward as she looked up at him. “That shall have to be remedied,” Harry offered, taking the empty bottle from her, “luckily, there is more in the pantry. I’m going to attend to these groceries, and then I think a nice cup of tea might be in order.” Sophie turned to lean her bottom against the table as Harry set the empty bottle on the table. He lifted the prepared Indian from his woven bag and showing it to Sophie before stacking his stilton and biscuits on top of it and carrying it into the kitchen. “Thank you my dearest,” Sophie cooed, her drowsy inebriation amusing Harry to no end. 

“A cup of tea sounds simply beautiful,” Sophie said, watching as he sorted through the pantry and placed his boxes inside. “Wonderful,” Harry replied, “and I can bring it to you if you would like to return to your book, or you can enjoy it here while I work if you like. I need to clean out the refrigerator and sort my produce bins before our drop order on Monday.” Harry set her teacup and saucer onto the counter as his kettle switched off, “Wouldn’t want things to go off whilst away.” Sophie listened as he prepared her tea, considering his comments with her brow furrowed. As Harry tossed the bag away and carried to cup to her, she looked up at him quizzically, “You have an order for Monday? How did you do it?” Harry just looked down at her, radiating his confident, subtle smirk as she realized it was done, “I gave you my word, Canary.”  
He set her cup onto the table beside her, admiring the pattern on the china as she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly to him. Harry closed his eyes, resting his hand between her shoulder blades as she held him. “Let’s not let the tea grow cold,” he whispered, stepping back for her to sit. 

“You’re so wonderful,” Sophie remarked as she sat at the table and Harry returned to his tasks, “I think I should make the Sunday roast tomorrow, for you. You work far too hard in that regard, it isn’t fair.” Harry froze at the suggestion, mildly panicked at the prospect of Sophie attempting to cook. He straightened, pondering how best to dodge her kind but unfortunate offer as he turned back to face her. Sophie was sitting upright, her legs crossed and her hands cradling her cup and saucer. “Just kidding,” she mused, a mischievous smile on her face, “in fact, I promise to command nothing more than the selection and opening of the wine. I haven’t yet discovered a way to bungle that.” Sophie sipped her tea, thoroughly pleased with her jest. For a moment, Harry had been genuinely shaken. She smiled as she set the cup down. She seemed lighter, rejuvenated at the news of Harry’s accompaniment. “I rather fancy you,” Harry quipped, turning back to his chores.  
“I have noticed that!” Sophie replied, “Are you sure you don’t need any help from me my love?” 

“None,” Harry replied, “I would prefer it if you returned to your book while I sort this out. I’ll return to you as soon as I’m done and we’ll have a proper G&T. How does that sound?” Sophie stood, lifting her saucer and carrying it to Harry, who accepted it at the doorway. While they both held the cup, Sophie leaned up on her toes to grant Harry a soft kiss in gratitude. “Thank you for coming with me,” she whispered, “however you managed it.” Harry blinked a few times, exhaling as Sophie turned and continued through the dining room on her way to the staircase. “And for Heaven’s sake, Tallon,” Sophie cried in her best impression of the Queen Mother, “don’t forget the Gordon’s!” Harry stood with the teacup in his hand, watching her disappear up the staircase. When her voice fell to silence, he turned back to the kitchen with a quiet chuckle at her request. 

 

Harry looked up from his reading, glancing over at Sophie as she lay beside him engrossed in the book she borrowed from him the day before. It had been a peaceful Sunday, punctuated by the Sunday lunch following an idle morning doing the Times crossword together. Sophie scribbled her answers confidently in pen, with a lack of restraint that contrasted Harry’s more pensive technique. Now she was tucked on her side, her back pressed against him as she rested against the pillow and read silently. Harry smiled as he looked over her, switching his tablet off and resting it on the bedside table before he shifted to spoon close to Sophie as she read. “How is your book?” He asked, attempting to charm her away from it as he slipped his hand under her. “I’m pretty sure,” Sophie said as she closed it and pushed it to her side of the bed, “that someone in that village is a murderer.” Sophie stifled a small yawn as Harry kissed her shoulder. “How dreadful,” he mumbled, his attention diverted as he sniffed her hair. “Harry?” Sophie asked as Harry’s hand slipped to her stomach and he moved up to her neck with his affections, “I thought you didn’t want a moaning Myrtle.”

Harry ceased his affections immediately, lifting from her hair and catching her gaze. “I did request that, didn’t I?” He asked halfheartedly. Sophie raised her eyebrows and nodded her dismissal. “Damn,” Harry muttered, reclining beside her as Sophie yawned again, “Sorry my love.” Harry merely hugged her close to him as she rubbed her feet against one another under the duvet and settled into position. Tomorrow meant Monday, and their mission, but Sophie had kept her promise to remain simply ‘his Sophie’ through the weekend. She was delightfully happy and engaging, all gloom disappearing when Harry returned that afternoon. As Harry felt her body relax into slumber, he took the moment to absorb the last few days before reaching over and switching the bedside lamp off. He turned back to her, resting his arm gently over her as she sniffed and cuddled close to him sleepily. 

Harry had taken the two years since his proposal to consider each moment he got to share with his beloved. As far as Harry was concerned, this affianced period was incidental, Sophie was already his chosen and beloved partner in all things. He merely waited patiently for her to set a date to make what was already promised legal. This weekend had reminded him that when not imbued with that focus and determination required to face her long and routinely solitary efforts, Sophie could be a tender and at times impressionable soul. When Arthur implied that Sophie was less than her fellow Kingsman, she accepted that summation as though he could see a great truth that others could not. Guinevere the agent needed no one to conquer the world. Sophie the woman fitfully depended on Harry to conquer the day. Harry considered keeping her spirits in those dark times a sacred troth akin to marriage itself, and her devotion to him was truest recompense. Sophie rolled over, resting her head against Harry shoulders with a soft hum. Listening to her in the darkness, Harry concluded that was quite enough thinking for one night.

 

“I feel dreadful about turning you down last night,” Sophie said, adding the paste to her toothbrush and beginning to brush as Harry stood before his shaving mirror. “Canary,” Harry exclaimed sweetly, “you were tired. I hope you don’t imagine I am upset about last night.” Sophie continued to brush her teeth silently as Harry rinsed his blade under the tap. Harry grinned, subtly turning his back to her to allow Sophie to spit into the sink with modesty. “I was very tired,” Sophie admitted, rinsing her toothbrush before she filled the cup from the stand and rinsed. Waiting to allow Harry to finish his next stroke, Sophie swished the water quietly as he passed the razor under the running water before she leaned down to spit the water into the basin. “Funny thing,” Sophie said, dabbing her lips with the corner of the towel wrapped around her chest, “I’m not at all tired now.” Harry paused as Sophie dropped her toothbrush into her wash bag, and as his eyes connected with hers in the reflection of his shaving mirror she dropped the towel and walked naked from the room. 

Harry watched the reflection pass out of the room before completing his shave and drying his face. As he reached for his aftershave, he hesitated - not wanting traces of it to linger on Sophie when she has to leave. Harry decided against it, removing his towel and marching to his bedroom in search of Sophie. He found her sitting on the bed, brushing her hair idly to pass the time until he returned. Standing in the doorway, Sophie looked up to study Harry’s body as he walked slowly toward her. “Well well Agent Galahad,” Sophie purred as he approached her, “are you ready for your mission?” Sophie uncrossed her legs, laying her brush down and leaning forward with her palms on the bed. Harry accepted the invite savagely, walking to her and in one brisk motion, pulled Sophie’s knees to the edge of the bed. Stepping between her knees, Harry placed his left hand against Sophie’s lower back and pulled her even closer to him. He said nothing, looking intensely at her as he pulled her against him and pushed into her. Sophie moaned softly as Harry pulled her closer a final time before resting his hands over her palms on the bed.

“A Kingsman is always ready for action,” He replied, squeezing her palms to hold her in place, “Isn’t that right, Guinevere?” With her legs hugged to his sides, Harry leaned into her, gently grinding against her. Sophie sighed audibly, unable to quite reach Harry’s face with his hands holding her to the mattress. The distance between them stirring a hunger in Sophie that even feeling Harry within her could not satiate. Sophie had loved Harry for many years, but had craved him since the very beginning. The years seemed to merely concentrate her desire to feel his gaze, adoration, and touch. As soon as she could make him smile, she needed more. Now, with him filling her she still pined for his kiss and breath. She had his heart and she wanted his name - feeling like that might finally be the invisible cloak that satisfies her constant hunger for him. Sophie looked up at his magnificent face, moaning as she noted the subtle smile formed there. _Maybe love was the constant hunger,_ she considered, _maybe I should never let it go._

Sophie slipped her hands from beneath his, reaching up to hold to Harry’s strong shoulders. Leaning up to touch her forehead to his cheek, Sophie panted, “I was born for this, Galahad.” She sighed, her heated breath spilling across Harry’s chest as she turned her attention to his shoulder, kissing along it as he gripped her thigh and cradled her neck. His thumb brushed her ear and she looked up, meeting his mouth is a soft passionate kiss. In these brief but kinetic moments, they found one another in silent rapture and the reaction was intense and immediate. Harry broke the kiss, releasing her neck as his hand traced down to grasp her back and she pressed her cheek to her shoulder. For a moment, there was only silence and the crescendo of their passion as they held to one another and Sophie enclosed her legs around him and bucked against his thrust. He brushed her hair from her face as they held to one another, her moan breaking the silence as he sank deeply into her and she came. “Galahad,” she trembled in his arms, “here. Don’t go away. Stay with me.” Harry nodded, pressing his forehead to Sophie’s as he hugged her to him and worked himself to orgasm. 

“Oh! Canary!” Harry thundered, squeezing Sophie tightly against him as he came into her. Sophie tightened her grip, holding to Harry’s neck as he shuddered heaving breaths and pressed his face to hers. These are the moments she longed for - when she was held tightly in Harry’s embrace, his bliss plainly written upon his face. Sophie knew no contentment like seeing Harry’s gratification and knowing she was the source. It felt better than saving the world, which was merely her job. Harry grasped her face, kissing her cheek and then her lips in a soft probing exchange before he pulled from her. “Thank you my love,” she whispered, as Harry rested his forehead against hers before he stepped back. “I love you.” Harry cooed to her, taking her hands in his before he stepped away to return to the washroom. As Sophie heard the water from the room, she looked back at the disheveled bed where they spent the weekend. Sophie felt overwhelmed with emotion, clutching her face in her palm as she grasped her things and raised from the bed, leaving the room in hastened silence. 

_Had Harry been right?_ Sophie wondered as she dressed, _what if I had given it all up?_ She remembered two years before, when Harry had demanded that Sophie give up being a Kingsman in order to marry him. Of course, she refused - how could she not? Still, Harry relented and the engagement went forth. Now Sophie turned that ring around her finger, wondering if insisting to remain had been the right decision. She quieted her mind, listening to Harry as he washed up and considering what to do. There was only one thing she could do when she felt lost, and that was to trust the work. Sophie looked around the room, collecting her things quickly. “Should we have a bit of breakfast?” Harry called as he emerged from the washroom and looked into the kitchen. Harry looked around at the empty space, “Canary?” There was no response to meet him, however. Sophie had left the flat. Harry spied Sophie’s ring, left resting on his bureau and tucked it into the small secret compartment alongside her once abandoned gloves. Harry stood in the quiet for several moments, adrift in thought.

“Are you mad?” Sophie said, her sharp tone ringing down the hall in the sub-basement of Kingsman HQ. The transport opened and Harry stepped out, immediately recognizing the heat in her voice. “Because one of those is a decision and the other is madness. Absolutely not, Maisey.” Harry slowed his pace, eavesdropping shamelessly as Sophie lectured over the telephone line. He would have given anything to hear the other side of that call. “No, this is not about Imperial College being the school in question,” Sophie replied, “this is...Maisey, you cannot give up going to a proper university so you can run off and work in a hotel in Thailand. Do you know what is an adventure? A life where you aren’t collecting tips and wondering where your rent is coming from. I don’t care what Gerald said...wait, who is Gerald?” Harry rested his chin in his palm, smiling at Sophie’s concern for the fellow orphan. “Well, I quite agree with Reverend Hislop on the matter,” Sophie continued, “there will be plenty of time for adventures after your education.”

Harry emerged from the hall and entered the room and Sophie stood with both arms raised and the tailor adjusting her undergarments. “As for this Gerald person, he doesn’t sound like a gentleman at all. Any man worth your time will appreciate the concept of patience.” Sophie’s eyes caught Harry as she said this, but his expression was clouded. “Well, I suppose that is true,” Sophie admitted, “what would I know about adventure. I just sit here, tailoring, so I can send money to ungrateful children that wish to throw their opportunities away. Perhaps that money would be better spent on a holiday and a Milk Tray.” Sophie nodded her appreciation to the tailor as he stepped away and she buttoned her tailored shirt. She omitted the tie, but added a vest which flattered her curves. “I should study up?” Sophie replied, her tone rising slightly, “Really. Well, Mị̀mī thāng dı nı nrk thī̀ c̄hạn c̀āy ngein h̄ı̂ khuṇ pĕn phnạkngān t̂xnrạb nı krungtheph, Maisey. Take that to your Which University course and see how it translates.” Harry smiled despite himself and Sophie rolled her eyes, “Exactly. Yes. Give my love to everyone.” Sophie tapped her glasses, shaking her head in frustration. 

“Good afternoon, Galahad,” she said flatly, “Apologies about the personal call. I must take the time when it is available.” Harry dismissed the apology with a shake of his head, “Not at all, Guinevere. I trust everything is alright?” Their posture and tone was formal, reserved, and professional. “Of course,” Sophie replied simply. She slipped into her coat, thanked Edwin for the adjustments and her new washbag, and walked out to the launchpad with Harry following. They both stopped on the observation deck, watching the tech team loaded the cases onto the private plane. Harry looked at Sophie, blinking slowly to catch her attention. When she faced him, he signaled to her, “ .-- .... -.-- / -.. .. -.. / -.-- --- ..- / .-.. . .- ...- . / -- . ..--..”  
Sophie gave no evidence of reply as her glasses translated the message, but seeing it still broke her heart:  
__

_Why did you leave me?_

Sophie lowered her eyes, choosing her words carefully before she looked back at him and blinked her response, “.. / .-.. --- --- -.- . -.. / .- - / -.-- --- ..- .-. / -... . -.. --..-- / .- -. -.. / .. .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / ..-. .- -.-. . / ... . . .. -. --. / -.-- --- ..- / .- --. .- .. -. / .. -. / .- / ..-. . .-- / .... --- ..- .-. ... --..-- / -... ..- - / -. --- - / ... .- -.-- .. -. --. / --. --- --- -.. -... -.-- . / - --- / -.-- --- ..-” Sophie sighed, a desperate laugh escaping her as she continued to blink the cryptic message that she only hoped Harry would understand, wondering if she did herself. Harry considered her response silently:  
__

_I looked at your bed, and I...could face seeing you again in a few hours, but  
not saying goodbye to you._

  
“--- ..- .-. / -... . -..” Harry signaled back quickly, looking into her eyes as she read the translation:  
 __

_Our bed._

Sophie bit her lower lip, looking out at the hangar as she blinked slowly. Harry watched as her message translated through his glasses. “ .. .----. -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.-- / -- -.-- / .-.. --- ...- . .-.-.- / .. / .- -- / .- / -.-. --- .-- .- .-. -.. .-.-.-” Sophie explained. Harry read the message across his lenses:  
__

_I’m sorry my love. I am a coward._

  
Perhaps it was her delivery, or the stress of the impending mission, but Harry felt a stirring at her response, and this time he wasn’t going to silence it. Walking to the observation window, he gazed out at the hangar and whispered, “You may push me away from your space. I will support and accept that. You may not keep me so far from you while in mine. We...I deserve better than that.” Harry’s words were firm, but his tone conveyed hurt and Sophie looked back at his face as he looked out at the crew loading the plane. Before she could find her voice to apologize again, Harry clicked his tongue and walked from the observation deck, leaving Sophie behind.

Sophie boarded the plane, greeting Merlin in the cockpit as Harry took his seat. “What a pleasant surprise,” Sophie beamed, genuinely pleased to see him. Sophie seldom got to use the private plane, and was chuffed by the opportunity to share the time with her colleagues. Guinevere was beginning to feel herself again, but Harry’s words lingered in her mind. Only by setting it right could she leave Sophie behind and face her work beside Galahad when the plane landed. “I’m just going to take my seat,” Sophie explained, “shall I bring you a cup of tea once we take off?” Merlin nodded, and Sophie slipped from the cockpit to take her seat beside Harry. While the plane taxied to the runway, they each read their magazines in silence, but once the airplane charged the runway Sophie turned to face Harry. “.. / -.. .. -.. / -. --- - / -.-. --- -. ... .. -.. . .-. / -.-- --- ..- / . .- .-. .-.. .. . .-.” she began, continuing after a pause, “- .... .- - / .-- .- ... / .-- .-. --- -. --.” Harry stared back at her, his intensity intimidating her. As she turned back to her magazine, thumbing across the pages she muttered, “I..am...truly...sorry.” 

The plane leveled in the air, and Sophie stood to switch the kettle on and make tea. She didn’t ask Harry, knowing how he takes his tea as she prepared the cups and poured the kettle into the pot. As she poured Harry’s cup, he met her at the bar and accepted it. As their fingers brushed, he whispered, “You are truly beautiful.” Sophie smiled as he took the saucer and returned to his seat. Sophie prepared Merlin’s cup, carrying it to the cockpit. “Thank you,” Merlin called, “we’ll be arriving in just under two hours.” Sophie looked over his notes curiously, “Perfect. Galahad and I are going to run through notes to prepare. Call if you need anything.” Sophie nodded, turning back to the cabin to pour herself a cup. “Our target is Lucia Romano, head of The Occhi di Veritá gallery in Venice. I suspect the gallery is a front for a criminal investigation, but I haven’t been able to connect their forgeries to a larger operation yet.”  
Sophie bit her thumb as she looked over her dossier, “I’m telling you Galahad, I’m certain that connection is there. Not only is Lucia passing off forgeries, but her gallery is importing silicon transmitters from South Korea. Really advanced stuff. If the original works emerged, we could make the connection, but they haven’t, so whatever the motive, it doesn’t seem to be profit on the art itself.” Harry read over the material, sipping his tea slowly. He studied the photos Sophie included in his pack before asking, “What is my role in this?” He asked, looking over his glasses. “You are Leonard Addams, my right arm and personal assistant. Since my relationship with Lucia is both necessary to the mission and a great hindrance to it, while I keep her occupied, you can infiltrate the company and hopefully ascertain the final pieces to this nearly year long mission.” Sophie sighed, lifting her teacup as she concluded, “I would so like to close this case, she is quite tedious company to keep.” 

“I must admit,” Harry charmed, “I am quite intrigued to see you in the field.” Sophie took another sip of her tea, “I suppose that is true. You’ve never seen Guinevere in action. Perhaps we will surprise one another.” Harry smirked, taking a moment to consider the remark, “Well, we are the always the same person. Whatever the mission, we are always the same person underneath.” Sophie studied Harry’s hopeful expression soberly for a few moments. “My word,” she said softly, “you’re serious. You are this person all the time, everywhere?” Sophie blinked, her confusion lingering on her face as she finished her tea. Harry watched her, puzzled, “I don’t understand,” he asked, “are you not always yourself?” Sophie straightened at his question, her shoulders and back lifting to a rigid posture. “Certainly not,” Sophie corrected firmly, “the canary doesn’t enter the coal mine.” Sophie lifted the pot, refreshing her cup and offering to refill Harry’s while he looked at her silently. “I’m a different woman in the field, Galahad,” Sophie said resolutely, “I have to be. I leave Sophie behind,” Sophie stood to return her cup to the bar, “usually with you.”


	5. Chapter 5

As the plane taxied on the runway, Sophie stood and reached into her bag for sunglasses. She pressed the logo on the Chanel frames to activate the smart features before exchanging them with her glasses and returning them to her bag. She said nothing, meditating on her mission as the plane came to a stop. “Are we solid?” Sophie asked, touching up her lipstick before she dropped it into the bag and closed her mirror. Harry checked his info feed in his glasses before answering, “Affirmative. Everything is in order.” Sophie reached into her bag, lifting a turquoise box from Fortnum & Mason before extending the bag to Harry. As he accepted it from her, Sophie turned her back to him and stepped to the door. “Thank you, Leonard,” she said, her voice clipped and her posture formal. Harry watched as the door opened and Sophie stepped confidently from the plane down to the runway. He followed her down the staircase, stopping as he saw her embracing the woman standing alongside her chauffeured car. “Tesora!” The woman raved as Sophie presented her with the box, “Sei così premurosa.”

Harry watched as Sophie warmly embraced the woman, clutching her face and kissing her passionately. He averted his gaze, continuing to the runway and standing at a distance from the two women. “I’m so sorry my love,” Sophie whispered to Lucia, “I can explain everything. I just wanted to keep you safe.” She took a step back from Lucia, still holding her hand as she gestured to Harry, “This is my assistant, and right arm, Leonard Addams. I returned to England to fetch him. After that altercation I just felt safer with a little protection.” Lucia studied Harry, her expression unimpressed. “You should have come to me, cara,” Lucia remarked, “I am perfectly able to keep you safe.” Sophie kissed her hand as she gripped it, pulling her focus from Harry. “I know you can, my dearest, but I can take care of myself. Leonard was MI-5. He knows what he’s doing.” Harry cleared his throat subtly, adding, “I assure you Madam, I would die before I allowed anything to happen to Ms. Ryan.” Sophie gestured to him, pleased as she looked at Lucia, who observed him quietly. “Please don’t be cross with me,” Sophie whispered to Lucia, “I missed you too much.”

Lucia smiled as Sophie stroked her hand. “I want to hear everything about that attack,” Lucia requested as she turned back to the car. Harry stepped forward, opening the door for them. “Thank you Leonard,” Sophie offered, “you may sit up front.” Harry gave her a brief nod as they climbed into the back and he closed the door. Sophie unbuttoned her coat, turning her complete focus to Lucia as she took her seat. “We collected the assassin,” Lucia informed her, “but we don’t know who sent him. You should have come to me straight away.” Sophie looked away, tears brimming in her eyes. “I was so afraid, Lucia,” Sophie admitted, “what if it wasn’t about me, and I led them directly to you, my biscottina? I needed to sort out the threat, free of you to keep you safe.” Lucia touched her cheek, and Sophie looked back at her as she tried to ebb her emerging tears. “This is my city,” Lucia said solemnly, “I am always safe. We will find the person responsible for this attack and make them suffer.” Sophie leaned in, kissing Lucia passionately. “Thank you my dearest,” she whispered, “for understanding. Someday I hope to have your strength.”

“You would be safe at my compound,” Lucia advised, “you would have no need for any ‘right arm’ if you stayed with me.” Sophie blinked a few times, dropping her shoulders with a sigh. “I don’t want your colleagues or our future contacts thinking I’ve just come along because we love each other. I want autonomy, Lucia.” Sophie released her hand, cupping her own hands together as she explained again, “You’re so important, but you know how hard it can be for a woman to be taken seriously in these dealings. I want to be your partner in every way. That means doing things on my own. Without your supporting me along the way.” Sophie looked at her feet as Lucia studied her face, reaching between her hands with her own and squeezing one in her grip. “You’re so beautiful,” Sophie flirted, “I’m so lucky. All I want is to make you proud of me.” Sophie touched her forehead to Lucia’s, closing her eyes as their lips connected in another soft kiss. Lucia rested her head on Sophie’s shoulder as they continued on to the Hotel Danieli. 

“The suites here are simply gorgeous,” Sophie raved as the porters carried her large trunks up the staircase which lined the wall of the palace at the center of the hotel, “and everyone important has stayed here.” Sophie clutched Lucia’s elbow, leaning in to whisper, “I can be such a starfucker, it’s terrible. I love it.” Lucia laughed at her expression, and Harry simply observed, taking in as much of this persona as he could while also focusing on directing the porters. Harry  
always had faith in Sophie’s abilities as an agent, but he was fascinated at just how different she was in the field. Perhaps it was this mission, but Harry had the sneaking suspicion that his simply remembering a name and an objective was a far cry from Sophie’s reanimation into this or any other alter ego while at work. Harry did not have long to ponder these theories however, and Sophie was snapping her fingers for him at the top of the stairs. He hoped this was a necessary requirement of the personality, or at least that his immediate disdain for it was his own issues with taking orders from a junior Kingsman, which is a term he never thought he’d associate with Guinevere.

The suite opened to a large, cream and gold parlour with plush furnishings and a breathtaking view of the lagoon. Sophie rushed to the windows, throwing each open to welcome the salty air into the suite as Harry directed the luggage into each room and studied his checklist. “Ms. Ryan,” Harry read, looking up from his notes, “It’s time for your vitamins. Would you care for a cup of tea as well?” Sophie turned to Harry brightly, nudging her forehead at him as she spoke to Lucia. “See? He takes wonderful care of me. Never lets me forget anything important. Leonard is worth his weight in gold.” She nodded agreeably as Harry set to work. Lucia took a seat on the sofa as Sophie went to collect her vitamins from Harry, signalling to him in conference without Lucia’s notice. “What do you think of the suite?” Sophie asked her pridefully. Harry offered Lucia a cup of tea, which she rebuffed quickly. “I would have gotten you the Royal suite,” she answered succinctly. Sophie made a face, walking over to her and dropping to her knees in front of her.

“I like the Princess suite,” she remarked, “it makes me feel young.” She placed her hands in Lucia’s lap, scooting closer to her slowly. Lucia’s mildly dour expression softened and Sophie leaned in, kissing her. “Non posso...vivere senza di te,” Sophie cooed, a slight question in her execution. This made Lucia smile despite her expression. “You have been practicing,” Lucia complimented, impressed with her effort, “I think you should be rewarded.” Sophie smiled, pulling back to look her in the eye. “Being able to tell you I love you in your own language is reward enough,” she replied. She lifted to her feet, taking a seat in the chair beside the sofa. “I disagree,” Lucia countered, “I think we should have dinner tonight. Just the two of us, somewhere special. I can catch you up on the business you missed while in London, and then we can have a bit of fun.” Sophie’s smile was intense as she agreed before examining her clothes with a slight frown, “Will this prove acceptable tonight or should I change?”

“Leave the suit,” Lucia commanded, “I enjoy it when you look androgynous. It’s what I first fell for.” Sophie blushed, lifting her tea cup into the air for collection. “Thank you Leonard,” she said as Harry grasped the cup, “could you possibly unpack while I am out. I will also require some proper tea. This hotel blend is unacceptable.” She made fleeting eye contact with him as he nodded seriously. “Of course, Ms. Ryan. I’ll have everything taken care of.” Sophie nodded her acknowledgement but said nothing. She slipped her wallet into her coat pocket and stood to leave with Lucia. She said nothing further to Harry, who simply stood at the bar and watched them leave. As they reached the staircase, Sophie directed Lucia to the vibrant tapestries, directing her focus as she quickly composed a message with her glasses. In the suite, Harry’s glasses buzzed him as he lay Sophie’s clothes onto the bed to organize them.  
The trunk code: Where you first told me I was beautiful.  
Thank you Galahad.

Harry noted the message, sending a simple affirmative reply. He talked over to the case and typed, ‘Dorchester’ but the case blinked red and remained locked. Puzzled, he thought again before he tried a second time. He typed, ‘Stanhope’ and smiled and the case blinked green and clicked open. As he opened the secret compartment, he found a huge cache of photographs and physical files on the case for him to study, along with a scrambler for listening devices and a note.  
Lucia bugs everywhere I go. Be safe ;)  
Harry grinned at the note, taking out his lighter and setting it ablaze before he lifted the files and set them onto the desk in his own room. He looked over them for a moment before returning to the unpacking. As the note burned in an ashtray, Harry placed each of her undergarments into the drawers and carefully closed her case. 

Harry scattered the files across his desk, looking over the collage of images to sense a pattern. As he looked through each photo, he tried to imagine the motivation behind the crime. Lucia Romano was already a wealthy and powerful woman - what appeal could exist for her in art forgery? It certainly wasn’t profit, as there were no signs she’d actually sold any of the originals once she passed off the forgeries. Perhaps she’s hoarding them? He wondered, before dismissing that idea. He wondered what Sophie was learning while out, and what she was doing. Harry sighed, putting all the photographs together and locking them back into her case and locking eventhing down. Once he was certain everything was secure, Harry left the suite in search of his own dinner as the images and info swirled around in his mind. If there was a connection to be found, Harry was committed to discovering it. He checked the time as he left the hotel, bound for a personal favorite for a proper Italian meal.

It was nearly midnight when Sophie entered the suite, removing her glasses and the contents of her coat before setting them all onto the dining table. She shed her coat and loosened her tie as she slowly sat on the sofa, rubbing her temples with one hand, which covered her eyes. She passed Harry but said nothing, and Harry went to the bar to prepare a cup of chamomile after seeing her body language. He stood beside Sophie, waiting silently until she looked up to acknowledge and accept the cup. “Thank you Leonard,” she said simply before taking a sip. After she drained the tea from her cup in a healthy drink, Sophie rattled the cup loudly against the saucer as she set it down before gazing up at Harry. She tapped her watch, raising two fingers to Harry and waiting for his confirmation. He nodded, turning to grab the scrambler as she set the timer on her watch. At his signal, they both switched their tech to the on position and started their two minutes. “Sorry Galahad, but unless we are certain this suite is not bugged, it really is for the best. I’m also sorry about today. I...have to be that way.” Sophie’s eyes trailed away from him...embarrassed momentarily before her face was washed out in her resolve, “Couldn’t be helped.” 

Harry went to the table, where he’d arranged the photographs, grabbing his magnifying glass and handing it to Sophie when she reached him. “Since the 'what' in this mission isn’t a complete picture,” Harry offered, “I have been trying to figure out the ‘why’ instead of the ‘what’ concerning these art forgeries. Take a look at this,” Harry gestured to a specific photo, which Sophie observed with the magnifying glass. “What is that?” Sophie wondered softly to herself, noting the amendment to the antique frame surrounding the Klimt in the photograph. “What indeed,” Harry concurred. Sophie lifted and met his gaze. “We need to get a look at who these paintings went to,” Harry reasoned, “Perhaps that list will answer some of our questions.” Sophie nodded, considering his direction. “If I get her away from her phone,” Sophie inquired, “can you back up the intel?” Harry nodded immediately, “Absolutely.” Sophie paced for a moment, formulating a snap plan, “I’ll get her here tomorrow and...keep her attention. She can be very demanding of affection.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Harry quipped, drawing a circle around the object and snapping a photo with his glasses. Sophie shrugged, “Lucia Romano is a screamer,” Sophie replied indifferently. Harry looked at Sophie as she handed over the magnifier and the timer on her watch beeped. Harry stopped the scrambler and they looked to each other, now trapped in their roles. “Thank you again for the tea,” Sophie said aloud, “I will have some business with Lucia tomorrow, so I will need you with me while out Leonard.” Harry began collecting the photographs, preparing to move them to his case for added safekeeping. Sophie went to collect her abandoned tie and coat when Harry called out, “Please leave it Ms. Ryan. I’ll attend to it.” Sophie stopped, smiling at Harry’s commitment to her cover. She was so glad he was by her side, when so few agents had ever done so, but knew she couldn’t tell him that. Two minutes was simply not enough time. She walked to the bedroom without looking back, stopping at the door. “Goodnight Leonard,” she said, not waiting for any response before she closed the door.

Sophie wondered why half the room away was somehow harder than half the world away, but knowing Harry was with her made his sleeping in another room torture. She longed for the simple little parts of being with him, and not being able to touch him at all was the worst part. Sophie sat on the bed in her nightgown, thinking of Harry’s wrists. She imagined them - reaching across to hand her the cup, pointing to direct the porters, turning as he drew the circle onto the photo - and licked her lips as she imagined this remarkably attractive feature. What a thing love is, transfiguring our forms to the divine. Sophie closed her eyes, running her hand up her neck and gripping her scalp gently. She heard him, still moving about in the suite, and grabbed her glasses as she lay back on the bed. She connected to his feed, watching as Harry examined his face in the mirror momentarily before returning his toothpaste to his wash bag. As he shuffled the bag, placing items onto the counter for the morning, Harry set his cologne and Sophie could swear she smelled it. Perhaps not quite it, but it was there for a moment and Sophie was sure of it. 

Sophie realized she was holding her breath, sighing audibly as finished arranging. The sound traveled through the temples of the glasses, vibrating up through the jawbone and resonating her soft moan directly to his ear. Harry stopped, switching to her feed as he listened. Careful to not do anything which might be captured if there were surveillance; Harry stepped to the shower and turned the tap. The water echoed from the basin, drowning out any noise from the glasses to each other’s ears. Harry took a deep breath, slowly exhaling a low moan to match her breathy prelude. From her bed, Sophie heard him, lifting her head to compare the sound from her glasses to the sound in the suite. Hearing his cover, Sophie watched as Harry placed his boxers onto the counter and rested his glasses facing the shower. Sophie could no longer communicate with Harry, yet she knew everything she could see was for her alone. Her heart pounding, Sophie thought of Harry just a few feet away and stroked her nipples. Her back arched as she ran her hands down her body and gripped her thighs as she watched him lathering his body in the shower. 

Harry imagined Sophie, her nimble fingers and skin that begs to be kissed, spilled across the bed and touching herself. Harry closed his eyes, stroking himself as the shower cascaded over his shoulders. He thought of Sophie’s face the first night they were together, when he was so close to her and could witness her orgasm. He watched as her eyebrows relaxed, and then the look of satisfaction wash over her face. Harry remembered her body lifting from the bed and press to him as his toes curled and he braced himself against the glass shower door. Sophie’s breathing was reaching a crescendo as she watched Harry work himself to climax, his shoulders slowly dropping in the afterglow. Harry stepped from the shower, replacing his glasses as Sophie moaned softly into her glasses. He watch the darkness as Sophie failed to stifle her soft moans and though he could not see her he felt powerful. Sophie hoped Harry could hear her and could talk to her, but knowing that he knows what she is doing made her indulgence feel like making love. Harry had found a way to cross the world. He came when she called out to him, as he had vowed always to do. 

Sophie feared growing too loud, and held herself silent and she shuddered blissfully and surrendered to orgasm. She rolled onto her stomach, rubbing her swollen and sensitive sex a few times before collapsing into her soft pillow. She gave one final grateful moan softly before removing her glasses and placing them on the bedside table. Harry watched the feed end before walking to the shower and shutting it down. He remained in his bathroom, listening for any sound in the suite. Hearing none, he smiled, imagining Sophie sleeping. He was very pleased to get to be by her side in this rare occasion, even if it meant he had to ignore her more than ever before. Harry switched off the light, walking to his bed and setting his glasses beside the lamp on his nightstand. The moon shined through from the balcony as Harry lay back and listened to the canal, thinking about the case and trying not to pine for his love. He would rush to her side, open the scrambler and lay these feelings at her feet. Two minutes is simply not enough time to do so. He wondered if it ever got harder than this, slipping into a dreamless sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie and Harry work side-by-side on the mission in Venice, trying to discover the dark motivation behind all the evidence connected to Lucia Romano.

“Well, I suppose you are right,” Sophie shrugged. She stirred her coffee, pushing the tiny spoon back and pulling it back to her slowly. As she raised the cup to her lips, Lancelot smirked at the admission. He watched Sophie’s POV camera while she benefited from the camera on his laptop computer. “You worry too much,” Lancelot assured her, “he’s simply not used to working alongside you. Take it from me Guinevere, you are a force to behold.” He waited as a slight flush had formed in her cheeks, and she removed her glasses to rub her eyes. Returning them with a sniff, she continued, “It’s simply dreadful. We can’t even speak to each other. Those long silences, where you miss…” Sophie paused, sipping her coffee and she considered the longing. “Everything. HQ is tricky, but this is difficult. Then I feel badly for asking for his help.” Sophie shrugged, looking out at the mostly empty cafe and sweeping for any surveillance.  
“If he’s on a mission, it wasn’t a favor.” Lancelot replied, “A Kingsman stands on ceremony, and doesn’t mince the personal.”  
“That’s very true,” Sophie agreed. Lancelot lifted his pint, taking a sip as Sophie acknowledged his point. “You’re a Kingsman too, so must have needed him if you asked. If you don’t know why yet, give it time.” Lancelot advised her with a soft, kind tone. He cherished their friendship, discovering a lively prankster with a sharp wit, and he especially loved how she made time to listen whenever she could no matter where in the world they were. “Are you...drinking right now?” Sophie asked, examining her watch with mockish disapproval. Lancelot smiled, raising a finger as he took a long, healthy drink. “Indeed I am,” he answered sprightly, “I’m in Marlyebone, having a pint before my shave.”  
“Is that safe?” Sophie mused before finishing her coffee, “Do you need a steadying drink first?”  
“I live for danger,” Lanecelot said confidently, sharing a laugh with Sophie. “And Soph? He’s fine. He’s working and he’s near you, and as one of his closest friends I can say there are few things likely to make him happier. Don’t worry.”  
Lancelot flashed a confident smile before finishing his pint. Sophie slipped her head through the strap of her cross body bag and grasped the small bag from the bakery. “Thanks for the chat,” Sophie whispered as she stood to leave the table in the back of the dining room and return to the suite. “Anytime Guinevere,” Lancelot called, “Take care of yourself my friend.” Sophie closed the call before buttoning her coat and stepping out into the breezy midday. Lancelot remained in his snug, staring ahead in silence. “Be safe Birdy,” he whispered, to himself alone, before taking his leave to continue to the barber. Having already left the call, Sophie talked through town, taking in the wafting aromas from the Christmas market tents that had begun to spring up in this beautiful but cold mid-November. Sophie had spent the last ten days catching up on new information and slowly making her case to be more closely involved in Lucia’s next acquisition. Harry had been gathering intel each day, and in the evening they made a single two-minute debriefing with the scrambler before separating for the night.  
She entered the suite as Harry entered the main living room. Their eyes connected briefly but they said nothing to one another. “Leonard, would you make me a cup of darjeeling please?” Sophie finally said, setting her bags down across the sofa. She presented the bag of bomboloni as he passed, allowing him to admire the acquisition. “Thank you Leonard. Forgive me, how was your morning?” Harry looked up from the kettle, flashing a comforting smile as she took a seat on the sofa. “It was uneventful,” he announced as he worked preparing the small tray, “I hope yours was pleasant.” Sophie nodded as he set the tray beside her. She offered the bag to Harry as he stood there. “You simply must have one of these,” she offered, “they are delicious.” Harry looked at her for a moment before reaching into the bag and collecting one of the small pastries for himself. He nodded at Sophie in thanks before stepping away and taking a bite.  
Silence took over the suite as Sophie sipped her tea, looking down as she meditated on her mission that night. She needed to perform, and that meant focusing on being Siobhan as much as possible for the next twenty-four hours. Sophie rubbed her neck, catching Harry’s attention with her stare as she signaled for the two minute window. When he confirmed, she pulled the scrambler from her bra and activated it. “I’m about to prepare for the mission. Are you ready?” She asked, examining her watch to keep time. Harry collected her teacup, running his fingers over hers subtly as he lifted the cup away. “Everything is prepared,” Harry said confidently, “I am certain of it.” Sophie nodded, standing as she rubbed her forehead and slipped from her shoes. She sank into the rug, leaving the shoes in place. “Thank you,” Sophie said, her focus muddled as the thoughts seemed to flow across her face.  
“Everything alright?” Harry asked passively, not wanting to sound concerned. Sophie grabbed her shopping bag and walked to the bedroom. “Everything is fine,” Sophie assured them both calmly, “I’m just working. Sorry in advance.” Sophie reached the door as she said this, shrugging as she looked back, “I’m glad you’re here.” As his smile met hers, her watch buzzed and she switched off the scrambler. Harry listened as she set the bags down, rummaging through the shopping before falling to silence. “Leonard, please open the sparkling white,” Sophie called from the bedroom. Harry began removing the wire cage when he heard George Michael loudly playing in her room. As he heard the shower start, he carried the wine into the bedroom and rested the bucket beside the vanity. He noted the clothes spread across the bed before rapping upon the bathroom door and handing the glass to her. “Thank you Leonard,” she called, and Harry left the room smirking as her Rio player filled the suite with pop music.  
Harry walked into his room, grabbing his shoe bag and pulling a long silicone strip from the bottom of the bag. He flipped it over to examine the markings of the transparent sleeve with complex circuits inside before bringing it to the dining table. Dropping to his knees, he peeled the backing of the sleeve away and pressed it to the underside of the table to secure it into place. Once he was certain it was in place, Harry sent the test request email to Edwin, setting the testing tile atop the table and waiting for the test to begin. Edwin sent a message directly to Harry’s glasses, opening the diagnostic and transmitting it back to him. Now confident the equipment was in place, Harry secured all sensitive information before straightening the main living room and walked to his bedroom to change for the evening. As it was supposed to be his evening off, Harry put a casual ensemble together before reading the reply from Edwin and changing. Harry slipped on a cardigan and left his room, deciding to enjoy a negroni before going out. It was merely a ruse, after all. Harry was vacating the apartment to get his hands on Lucia’s phone.  
As he worked behind the bar, Sophie walked through and set the now empty Asti bottle onto the bar. She was wearing a vibrant neon yellow lace bodice over a matching set of bright pink bra and panties. Thrown over this was a flowing kimono but nothing else. Sophie stopped at the bar, reaching over it to grasp a box of matches before walking over to the window by the radiator. There she silently lit a cigarette, the orange glow emanating in the darkened room as she crossed her legs and exhaled into the darkness. Harry noted her cold focus, walking an ashtray over and holding it out to her. “Thank you Leonard,” she whispered simply. Her music selection kept with a trend of simple, upbeat pop music but Sophie’s eyes were fixed and her expression serious. The light from the bar and entrance spilled into the living room but Sophie stopped Harry from switching on a lamp in the room. She remained in the dark, slowly smoking her cigarettes and passing the time in silence. When there were just a few minutes until Lucia was due, Sophie switched on the lamp, checking her bodice and makeup in the hall mirror. “A tea, Leonard,” she ordered, signaling Harry as she walked back and took her position in the chair.  
Harry was busying himself with tidying up and preparing Sophie’s tea when there was a knock at the door. Wiping his hands on a tea towel, Harry left it on the bar before stepping to the door. “Buona sera, Signorina Romano,” Harry said as he opened the door and Lucia stepped in. “Parli abbastanza bene l'italiano. Forse potresti aiutare Siobhan a imparare?” Harry smiled as Lucia entered the living room, realizing this was a possible way to talk with Sophie every day. “Sarei felice di,” Harry replied, happily agreeing to tutor Sophie. He turned back to the bar as Lucia admired Sophie but grimaced at the cigarette. “I really wish you would stop with this smoking,” Lucia chided, “It’s not good for you.” From behind her, Harry cleared his throat and Sophie looked past her to recognize him. “Oh, I...quite agree, Miss Ryan,” He admitted, “and if you’ve no need of me, I’ll just be off for the evening.” Sophie nodded and Harry thanked her before walking to his room to prepare. “Why aren’t you dressed?” Lucia implored, “Have you been walking around in front of Leonard like this?”  
Sophie laughed at this, leaving her cigarette in the ashtray and sitting up to display her lingerie. “I didn’t want us to match,” Sophie said seductively, “I thought you could help me choose.” She slid to the end of the chair, gazing up at Lucia and battling her eyes. “Besides, Leonard isn’t looking. Trust me one that.” As if on cue, Harry stopped at the door, tucking his scarf into his overcoat. “Do have fun tonight,” Sophie called, waving to him. With Lucia’s back to him, Harry moved Lucia’s phone onto the space above the mirror sleeve. Sophie watched, standing as Harry bid farewell and closed the door. He walked past Lucia’s guards in the hall and took the stairs down to the floor below. There Merlin awaited his clear to begin sweeping the phone for information. He just needed to keep Sophie aware so the phone remained unmoved during the download. Merlin began the sweep, sending status updates to Harry as their files loaded. Harry quickly typed the first status to Sophie,  
_41% Loaded - keep her away from her mobile._  
Lucia took a step back, and Sophie glanced through her arm at her mobile as it rested on the table behind her. She grasped Lucia’s hand, cupping it and kissing it softly to hold her focus. “Three things,” Sophie mumbled, pressing her cheek to Lucia’s hand. “We could...go to dinner just as we planned. Pick a dress and off we go.” Sophie said sweetly. Harry listened on the private feed as Merlin hopped in and out with updates. “We could also retire to the bedroom before dinner.” Sophie continued, standing and looking into Lucia’s eyes, “You can let your guards wait in here if you like.” Sophie pressed her body to Lucia’s and kissed her neck, wrapping her arms around her while doing her best to appear small as she did it. Lucia sighed, softening her features and Sophie nuzzled her. “Three things?” Lucia replied, “What is third thing?” Sophie stopped, lifting her head to look Lucia in the eye. She smiled bashfully for a moment before she leaned in and briefly kissed Lucia’s lips. “I packed it,” she whispered to Lucia, “you could wear it and use it on me. It’s been thirty-six days since you made me come.”  
Harry blinked, not used to hearing such a forward declaration from that voice. _Was it her voice?_ Harry wondered. It was softer, airier, higher in pitch and her inflection was completely different. The woman he was listening to wasn’t his Sophie, which brought an eerie calm to Harry as he listened. Merlin completed the wipe, sending confirmation to Harry. Sophie smiled, turning to Lucia as she reached for her mobile. “No! No…” Sophie whined, “not your phone, Mamma. Not tonight, with me.” Harry switched to Sophie’s feed, and as he recognized what Sophie was looking at he whispered, “Mission success. You’re on your own, Guinevere.” Sophie smiled wearily, as Lucia turned back to her and ignored the phone.  
“Far ridere i polli,” Lucia exclaimed, “I am working. Always working. You know this.” Sophie shrugged, looking to the floor. When she failed to look up, Lucia left her phone and walked over to Sophie by her bedroom door. Pressing Sophie against the wall, Lucia met her lips forcefully and squeezed her ass. “Don’t you see?” Sophie admitted softly, “We’re partners. I should have more responsibilities. You work too much, then we don’t see each other. It needs balance.”  
Sophie looked up, her large eyes pleading tenderly with Lucia. “We shouldn’t talk about this now.” Sophie proffered, “we might disagree or become cross, and then you wouldn’t fuck me.” Lucia took Sophie’s hair in her hand, massaging her scalp as she kissed her. “Bambina,” she seethed, “there is no possibility of that.” As Sophie sighed happily, Lucia took her hand and pulled her to the bedroom. Harry left the hotel, switching his connection to her feed off to respect her privacy. Some things about the job are private, and simply aren’t a topic of discussion. That’s how Sophie wanted it, and Harry promised to terms. Harry decided to stay in the safe house overnight, just to give any space needed for Guinevere. There he could analyse the contact list without fear of surveillance or interruption. He turned his coat up against the harsh wind off the canal and continued to the safe house.  
“I did wear it for you,” Sophie flirted, “I hope you like it.” Sophie watched Lacia shed her dress as she slipped her panties down and kicked them from the edge of the bed. Lucia crawled over to her, a low hum ringing from her as she took Sophie in her arms and kissed her. From the hall, her guards stood waiting silently. Sophie’s cries sounded through the suite, unnoticed apart from her and Lucia as she whimpered, “Mamma, sei la donna... dei miei?” Her voiced raised at the end, her confusion at the expression made humorous by its delivery.  
“...sogni. Yes,” Lucia corrected, “I love that you are studying for me. It will come in time, baby.”  
Sophie looked up at the ceiling, considering her encouragement in the afterglow. “Everything is all tingly,” Sophie said softly, rolling over to look as Lucia, “is my makeup mussed?” Lucia smirked, “Yes, but you are still beautiful.” Sophie blushed as Lucia collected her bag. She gestured to the toilet as she stepped to it, and as soon as she closed the door Sophie rushed off the bed and into the next room. Quickly stripping the silicone uploader from under the table, throwing it into the sink and spraying it with the Kingsman lens cleaner. As it foamed up and broke down, Sophie washed the foam down the drain and tossed the few metal coils into the trash. Lucia emerged as Sophie indulged a healthy drink of water from the bar. “The red dress,” Lucia instructed, “hurry and we can still make the restaurant. I’ll give them a call.” Sophie set her water down, checking the foam was clear before walking back to the bedroom. “Dammi un bacio,” Sophie requested as Lucia kissed her sweetly. “Ti amo,” Lucia murmured, touching her nose to Sophie’s before she disappeared into her room to dress.  
Sophie replaced her glasses, buzzing Harry’s feed. Looking up from his notes, he saw Sophie in the dressing mirror as she wiggled about settling into her dress. As it found each curve and Sophie smoothed it over, Harry cleared his throat. “Guinevere? Did you need to speak with me?” Harry asked cautiously. “Yes,” Sophie answered as she simultaneously stepped into her shoes and replaced her earrings. “When are you returning this evening?” Sophie inquired, adjusting her lipstick. She fluffed her hair, checking either side when he answered, “I had actually considered staying out the whole night, here in the safe house.” Sophie checked her teeth and grabbed her Chanel. “Negative,” she instructed, “I need you here. Can you be back at midnight?” Harry sat up, “Yes, I’ll be there.” Sophie lifted the glass from the Chanel, drawing the oil down her neck it a fluid gesture. “Thank you,” Sophie said before going silent. Harry noted the time before returning back to his data, hoping to discover a clue before he needed to return to the suite.  
Sophie walked through the living room, grabbed her coat, and left with Lucia and her entourage. Harry had been back for a few hours when he heard the key beep in the door, allowing Sophie to enter with Lucia. “Oh, hello Leonard,” Sophie said dreamily, “I hope your night went well.” Harry looked about aimlessly, huffed once and replied, “Yes, thank you. You were supposed to check in by midnight. Had you not been with Signora Romano I would have worried.” Sophie patted his forearm, “You’re right,” she conceded, “I should have checked my phone. I’m sorry.” Harry nodded pleased, leaving his magazine to prepare her evening tea. Lucia collected her things from the bedroom when Sophie walked into it to change into her evening clothes. “Stay,” Sophie coaxed, trying to appear sincere in her false appeal. Lucia watched her dress, helping her remove the lingerie and replace it with comfy male tailored pajamas. “If I stay, I’ll want you again,” Lucia admitted, “and I don’t want Leonard as an audience.” Sophie pouted slightly as Lucia packed the items into her purse.  
“I have been thinking about what you said,” Lucia said. “You’re right. Next week, I’m going to bring you on board - give you more responsibilities.” Sophie smiled wide as Lucia continued, “It will mean being here for several months. No shopping trips or visits home. Understand?” Sophie nodded excitedly, “I’ll send Leonard for anything I need. Oh, how wonderful! I’ll start looking at apartments first thing!” Lucia blinked indifferently at the suggestion. “You can stay with me. That offer still stands.” Sophie blinked slowly as she listened, standing and approaching Lucia with open arms. “Not all at once,” Sophie said, “I’m here for the long haul. Forever, right Mamma? So let me prove I can handle the business first. Then, when I’m a bit more on my own feet we can live together. I’ll promote Leonard and send him back to London as my proxy.” Sophie held to Lucia’s side, admiring her. Lucia smiled, granting her a simple kiss before she collected her bag and walked out of the room. Harry set Sophie’s tea on the bar as they passed enroute to the door.  
“Be ready for early mornings starting Monday,” Lucia instructed, “after Sunday lunch. Of course you are both coming.” Sophie nodded, rolling her eyes in praise, “I cannot wait my love.” Lucia turned to the door when Sophie stopped her, kissing her one final time. As the door closed, Sophie turned back to face Harry. She grabbed her ear, then tapped her watch when he nodded his comprehension. She walked back to the tea and took a sip. “Thank you so much for the tea,” she said aloud. Harry prepped the scrambler as he replied aloud, “Think nothing of it, Miss Ryan.” They both nodded as Harry triggered the scrambler and Sophie started the watch. “Well done with the directive,” Harry offered quickly. Sophie nodded, “Yes, spectacular work there.” Harry opened his tablet, pulling information to show to Sophie. “As you can see, we successfully pulled her business contacts and are cross-referencing the known properties against these documents to form a master list. Perhaps a pattern will emerge when we study the names.”  
Sophie nodded, surveying the list on his screen and focusing on the names. “I believe I may have accomplished getting closer to the business. Starting Monday, I’ll be in the main office. It will require my getting an apartment, but that could work for us. You can return to London for your own work on half time, possibly by next month.” Harry looked into her eyes, “So, that’s good news. Once we make the connection, the next step will become clear to us.” Harry watched the subtle expressions which illustrated Sophie’s train of thought. “Per quanto tempo farai finta di non poter parlare italiano?” Harry asked. Sophie smiled at Harry’s direct poking of fun, replying quickly, “Finché continua a mascherare i suoi segreti con esso. Mi ci è voluto un anno per arrivare così lontano.” They shared a chuckle as her watch beeped, signalling the two minute mark. Harry’s smile faded as he turned to the scrambler and switched it off. They stood, side-by-side, taking in the silence together. Sophie arranged the photos, and Harry rested his hand next to hers. Sophie stopped, letting Harry gently stroke her fingers with his.  
“Leonard, would you make me a gin and tonic? We have to talk.” Sophie said clearly, looking up to him. Harry’s face washed from loving to happy and back to professional before he replied, “Yes of course, Miss Ryan. What would you like to discuss?” Sophie powered down Harry’s tablet, sending him a quick message with her glasses. As Harry made her drink, the message appeared:  
_Be reluctant but supportive. Will explain later._  
“I’m going to be taking on more responsibilities in the business,” Sophie explained, “I will need an apartment, so we should contact an agent in the morning. Also, this could mean months here without a break, so once I am settled into the apartment I can send you back to London to attend to business there.” Harry walked her drink over to her, handing it over the back of the sofa as she accepted it. “Should I not be here,” Harry responded, “to keep you safe? I wouldn’t want to leave you in any situation that endangered you.”  
“I might be staying with Lucia while you are away,” Sophie explained, “I’ll be safe, and if I need you, I’ll call you back.” Harry nodded, unsure of what to say, “I’ll be available the moment you call,” he assured, “Although I must admit: I don’t like it. I would prefer being here to keep you safe.” Sophie nodded, approving his direction as she sipped her gin. “What do you think of Lucia?” Sophie asked candidly, licking her lips as she turned back to the sofa. Harry stopped washing up, walking around the bar to meet Sophie at the sofa. “I think she’s very good for you,” Harry answered carefully, “you seem quite happy with her. That’s all that matters to me, Miss.” Sophie blinked quickly, pleased with Harry’s execution. “Thank you Leonard. We begin looking tomorrow.” Sophie relaxed against the sofa, staring out at nothing as Harry closed the blinds and heavy drapes over the windows. Once they were secured, he threw her a tender glance before commenting, “Good night, Miss Ryan.” Sophie looked up, taking in his silent adoration for a moment before replying, “Good night, Leonard.”  
“I quite like one,” Sophie admitted aloud, “I could keep my wardrobe in the child’s room. Would be simpler.” Sophie stared at the little room as the estate agent gushed happily, “Sì, molto luminoso e molto spazio. Questo appartamento è in una posizione perfetta.” Sophie smiled as Harry conferred with her. “She endorses the neighborhood,” he explained, holding the ruse as Sophie listened. She looked about as she paced through the room. “Ti darò qualche minuto per decidere.” The agent said, stepping back and walking to the door. As she left, Harry closed the door and paced back to the bathroom, which had no window and was the most private in the flat. “The report checked out,” Harry said calmly, “This building is free of listening devices, and my intel has returned from Merlin. Have a look at this.” Sophie stepped into the adjacent hall, looking over the files as he messaged them to her. “She’s not keeping the work at all,” Sophie whispered, “she’s changing them?” Harry listened as she ruminated, scanning the information quickly. “Sounds like we need to arrange to have her take another commission,” Harry suggested.  
“We should definitely recommend someone,” Sophie agreed, “and find out where these pieces are now.” Harry nodded, and Sophie closed the files on her lenses with a tap on the frame. “Just one more thing,” Sophie interjected, stepping into the bathroom and pressing her lips to his for a few seconds before breaking away and checking that she left no trace behind. She smiled but kept her eyes lowered. “Let’s create a commission,” Sophie instructed, “and catch her out.” Harry was interrupted when the door of the flat opened and the agent returned. “Sei contento, signora?” The estate agent asked. Sophie smiled, “Si,” she added with a nod. Harry stepped past her and continued to the living room while Sophie lingered with the agent. “Young love, si?” The agent suggested. Harry heard the drop from the living room, peering down the hall as Sophie lifted the unconscious agent into a chair. “Go,” Sophie ordered, “go to the safe house and put in an order for the false client. Gareth or Lancelot, anyone really. I’ll stay here and sort her memory. If she doesn’t see you she won’t make the connection. After all,” Sophie mused, “I want this flat.” Harry smiled, nodded, and left for the safe house. He passed the festive shoppers, blending in with them and disappearing from sight.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months in, and a new wrinkle arises in the case. 
> 
> NOTE: Sorry this chapter has taken so long. I'm working on a bunch of writing.

Sophie made a face, looking over at her Rio player as it rested on the kitchen counter. She was in a simple white t-shirt and boyshorts, her midsection pressed against the counter as she stretched for her teabags. Setting the tea beside the kettle, she quickly switched the track, skipping aimlessly through the newer, more recent music she had uploaded for the trip. She stopped at the familiar tone of Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark, setting the player down and turning back to her kettle. As “Enola Gay” filled the silence of the small galley kitchen, Sophie swayed along preparing the tea. She twitched, moving her hips in time to the bubbly synthpop of nuclear war as she filled the kettle with water. She fetched the milk from the small refrigerator as she switched the kettle on and continued dancing in the space. Harry stepped to the kitchen entrance, watching silently as Sophie slipped to-and-fro in her panties. He took an extra moment to enjoy the lace hugging to her backside before clearing his throat and greeting her. “Good morning, Miss Ryan,” Harry said.  
“Good morning Leonard,” Sophie chirped, “Would you care for a cup of tea?” Harry walked into the kitchen, his wide hand brushing across her backside as he passed. “I should attend to this,” he protested, gesturing toward the tea. Sophie gave a dismissive wave as she added milk to each cup. She knelt past him to return the milk to the refrigerator, glancing up at Harry as she slowly closed the door. The past six months had given Harry and Sophie plenty of time to tighten their game; and though they almost never touched and casually spoke, Sophie and Harry had perfected a system of communication. Sometime after their silent Christmas, Harry began to add a double tap when he’d bring Sophie tea. It was a barely audible, easily dismissed gesture that both understood to be a sincere ‘love you.’ Over time it came to mean any number of positive, confirming sentiments of affection that passed between them as they co-habitated in stealthy indifference. Harry received his tea, lending his gentle ‘tap-tap’ on her wrist as she set the cup beside him.   
“You know,” Sophie remarked as she walked over to the sofa, “I try to listen to all the new musical trends, but at the end of the day I believe I’m becoming set in my ways.” Sophie shrugged as she took a sip of her tea, “Boring old Siobhan.” Harry listened as her player switched to Bronski Beat and Sophie thumbed through the newspaper. Since the start of the year, Harry had been travelling back to London under the guise of running Siobhan’s other businesses, first in short bursts but then longer as he took cases of his own. This perfectly seamed into Sophie spending time in the Romano compound. She took each break to familiarize herself with the grounds and fully report any security information back to Kingsman HQ. Having observed Sophie at work, Harry had come to understand perhaps why she slept so much in their shared visits. He had not seen her sleep more than four hours on any day in this mission. “Tosh,” he dismissed flatly, “I doubt very much that Signorina Romano thinks you are boring.”  
Sophie nodded, “I suppose that’s true. Thank you, Leonard.” She neatly refolded the paper before rising to set it before Harry on the table. As if struck by some great epiphany, her face lit up and she acknowledged, “I do like a lot the music at clubs. Maybe that’s the new modern.” Harry ruffled the newspaper as Sophie walked to her bedroom. “I’m certain that must be it, Miss Ryan,” he assured aloud. Sophie stopped at the kitchen, switching the music to dance music before she retired to change. Harry simply smirked as he read his paper, for however much he disliked this new music - Sophie simply detested it. Perhaps Harry was childish in this, but knowing they suffered together did seem to make the medicine go down a touch easier. Harry dismissed this moment of self-criticism, deciding he was entirely fair in his findings. He ruffled the paper, reading the events of the day as he tried in vain to ignore the droning, repetitive bass when a knock at the door interrupted him.   
He opened it, allowing Lucia to enter the apartment. “Buon giorno, signora Romano,” Harry offered pleasantly, gesturing down the hall as Lucia passed him and continued walking. She said nothing to him, but that was perfectly fine with Harry. Since he began returning to London on business, Romano had grown cold on Harry and he could understand why. She wanted exactly what he did: for their business to be over and for Sophie to return with them alone. “Lucia! Il mio piccolo biscotto.” Sophie purred happily as she opened the door to her bedroom and embraced Lucia. Harry clicked his tongue before returning to his paper silently, amused at Sophie butchering the Italian. With the exception of the occasional brushing against one another and the rare possibility of actual contact, Harry hadn’t touched Sophie in months. He often thought of that last stolen kiss, and his frustration fell upon Lucia Romano. He dreamed of the break that would end this infernal case and return Italy to a place he might retreat to with Sophie and without work. Harry sighed when he imagined it.  
“No, it’s perfect!” Sophie exclaimed as she left the bedroom, “We should definitely meet with him.” Harry remained at the small dining nook as Sophie entered the living space and crawled onto the sofa. Lucia followed, but remained standing between Sophie and Harry. Sophie traced her fingertips down from her forehead to her nose, chuckling to herself. “This is great,” she explained aloud, “the guy wants to renegotiate his terms now, so he must know something new about the painting. What could that be?” Sophie reasoned, flashing a puzzled expression she hoped might ensnare Lucia. It worked, as Lucia became more accustomed to Sophie’s presence with business dealings, she let details slip. “Must be the delivery location,” she mumbled to herself. Harry met Sophie’s gaze for a moment as she said it, both noting that clue as Lucia contemplated her comments. Turning to Harry, Lucia explained, “Il nostro cliente vuole…”   
“No!” Sophie demanded, “Not in Italian! I want to understand everything.” Lucia turned back to Sophie, who smiled with a precocious zeal. “It’s simple,” she explained, “our client wants to renegotiate and we should meet him.” Lucia folded her arms in disagreement before Sophie acknowledged her. “Lucia doesn’t think we should meet because of the location, but that’s exactly why he selected it. We cannot afford to be intimidated this way. So we meet him.” Harry stood to join the conversation, focusing on Lucia, “Is the location unsafe?” Sophie laughed as Lucia fumed, trying to formulate her counter. “Oh Lucia, really,” Sophie remarked, “It’s a sex club, Leonard. This...degenerate wants to intimidate us by doing his business somewhere seedy. Well, let them try.” Lucia scowled, explaining to Harry. “It’s a private club here, I cannot bring my protection.” Harry nodded, agreeing with Lucia’s point as Sophie sighed. “Come to me, Mamma,” Sophie cooed, patting her lap and raising an eyebrow. Lucia reluctantly walked over, sitting but not looking at her.   
Sophie palmed her cheek, turning her face slowly to meet hers. “Negotiation is what I do,” she whispered, “remember how we met?” Lucia lifted her eyes to connect with Sophie’s as Sophie slipped her hand between her knees and lightly squeezed her leg. “I’ve been doing really well with everything, and I can do this. You are proud of me…” Sophie asked sweetly, “aren’t you my love?” Sophie squeezed Lucia’s thigh gently, looking up at the woman sitting in her lap. Harry had to admire Sophie’s technique, watching her shrink down and look so completely devoted to this woman. While his Sophie was a delicate, reserved woman at home; he was delighted to find her to be a dextrous, Janus-faced one in the field. Harry wasn’t sure what soothed him more: that he could so recognize her guise here or that he had never seen it before. Sophie stretched, kissing Lucia slowly as she stroked her hair. “I just don’t like the risk,” Lucia remarked, “with my bodyguards, no one can get to me, but without them it’s dangerous. For you, tesoro.” Sophie giggled, looking up at Lucia.  
“We’ll take Leonard,” Sophie suggested flippantly, “he doesn’t look like a bodyguard. He could easily be passed off as someone’s...someone.” Sophie gestured at Harry, who cleared his throat in confirmation. “You can rest assured, Madam,” Harry said seriously, “Nothing will happen in my charge.” Sophie closed her eyes, waving her hand in Harry’s direction to make her point. “So…I’ll wear a really short skirt,” Sophie continued, shifting from beneath her, “and no panties, and we will make this deal. We can show them that we won’t shy away from this. Who knows, when in Rome...” Sophie granted a gentle kiss to Lucia’s cheek, nibbling her ear as she giggled. Lucia softened, agreeing to set the meeting as Sophie cheered and shuffled down the hall to claim her coat. “You agree that this plan is a good idea?” Lucia asked Harry as Sophie hummed from down the hall. Harry considered the question, reviewing Lucia’s body language before answering, “I’m at Miss Ryan’s employ - where she goes, I will follow.” Harry excused himself, returning his teacup to the kitchen and leaving Lucia. He remained there until both women left the apartment, closing the door with an audible click and leaving him alone.  
Sophie drew the lipstick over her lips in a slow, singular motion, as she bent down to gaze in the mirror. Her gunmetal grey nail polish played against the matte red as she checked for any flaw as Harry waited for her outside her bedroom. She turned her steely focus to her ensemble, ensuring nothing is out of place in the solitude before the mission. Harry paced around the flat, his tuxedo flawless but forgettable for tonight’s objective. He was to remain out of focus in this, and as he responded to the knock at the door he wished he had a glimpse of Sophie in private first. Lucia walked in, passing Harry as she looked for Sophie. “I’ll only be a moment!” Sophie called, steadying herself as she took stock of the sparse equipment she was able to carry in this outfit. No gun, glasses, or watch would benefit her in this mission. Sophie took a deep breath, affixed her smile and left the bedroom to meet the rest of the group. She didn’t quite feel like Siobhan until she heard Lucia’s whispered, “Oddio,” as she entered the room. Her smile spread across her face as she innocently asked, “Do you like it?”   
Harry simply stared at her, grateful to be standing behind Lucia as he took in Sophie’s ensemble. She was also wearing her tuxedo, having modified it to cover like a dress and without wearing the matching trousers. Matching it with fishnet stockings, garters, and a thin black tie that lay between her breasts in lieu of a shirt, Sophie looked alien to Harry. He said nothing, his gaze dropping to the floor as Lucia squeezed Sophie close to her. “Don’t muss me,” Sophie cautioned with a giggle as Lucia nibbled her ear, “not until the club, anyhow.” Harry retrieved her trench coat, helping her slip into it so they can leave. Slipping her credit card and identification into the coat, she turned in her heels and left the apartment with her party following. She said nothing in the car to the venue, staring out the window as her fingers laced with Lucia’s and nightfall settled over Venice. Harry couldn’t tell if she was concerned of just concentrating, but tried to remain in the background as much as possible. Once they reached the club, Harry immediately found a spot along the wall near where they took a seat and remained to stand watch.   
“Now,” Sophie whispered to Lucia, “if this is a power play, we have to spin it as though we are completely bored by it. It’s the only advantage we have, even if it means being momentarily uncomfortable.” Sophie caressed her cheek as she advised, “We have to think about what’s at stake, and then be ardent in your resolve.” Lucia snickered despite Sophie’s sincerity, and Sophie pulled back. “Are you...giving me advice?” Lucia asked her, mocking her tone as she leaned in and gripped her chin. Sophie stared at her, her eyes glazing over as she studied Lucia’s face closely. Harry peered from his distance, unable to hear their conversation but attempting to read Sophie’s body language. A woman in a long red dress approached Harry, resting a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to chat him up. “No,” he dismissed, his eyes never leaving Sophie. The woman failed to understand, attempting to initiate conversation and step into his view. “Per favore vai via,” Harry said succinctly, returning his focus as Sophie pulled from Lucia and crossed her arms. “You don’t want me to be a partner,” Sophie said sadly, “you do not value my opinion.”   
Before Lucia could address Sophie’s charge, they were interrupted by the arrival of their client. Sophie brightly shook his hand, her demeanor sharp and her focus clear. Harry watched as they negotiated for several moments, taking images to send to Merlin for identification. Sophie turned back to Lucia, taking turns in discussion with the client before he stood, shaking hands with each of them. Sophie smiled confidently back at him before excusing herself and making her way to Harry. “Go with me on this,” she ordered quickly before Lucia met them both. “He wants to collect the painting tonight,” Lucia explained, “we should attend to it.” Sophie didn’t move, her pout evident. “You don’t need me. You should go ahead, Leonard can see to it that I get home.” Sophie turned to Harry, taking her focus away from Lucia as she attempted to comfort Sophie. “Tesoro…” Lucia purred, attempting a squeeze at Sophie’s midsection as she stood indifferent. “This is why I don’t live with you,” Sophie said, “I’d be a trinket. Were you ever serious about partnership?”  
She glanced at Lucia, who looked back at her mournful of the hurt she caused. Sophie had struck at her heart, and she then hugged her shoulders. “Go make the deal. We can meet after,” she whispered, “Te amo, Lucia.” With that, Sophie pulled from her and make her dismissal clear. Not wanting to create a scene with the client present, Lucia stepped back, nodded to Leonard and returned to the client. Sophie turned, backing against the wall beside Harry. “If you don’t mind terribly,” Sophie requested, “could you possibly get me a drink. I could really use one.” Harry said nothing, walking over to the bar to place the order as Sophie remained, watching Lucia leave with the client. Harry returned, handing the gin to a grateful Sophie. “Thank you, Galahad,” she offered before sipping down her drink. Harry stood beside her, trying to understand her endgame. Sophie finished her drink, cleared her throat and then leaned over to whisper at Harry’s shoulder. “She’s tagged. Merlin, would you mind tracing her location and recording any conversation from this point?”   
Through his glasses, Harry heard the confirmation from Merlin and gave Sophie a slight nod. Sophie sighed, “Women are so much fucking work,” she said quietly, “eighteen months now and I have to pick a fight to manipulate her into a course of action. One long weekend and a man opens up like a steamed clam.” Though her annoyance was clear, Harry couldn’t help but smile at her remark. “It can be difficult, saying no to you.” Harry agreed, “especially when you look so beautiful.” Sophie blushed, starting out into the crowd of half-dressed exhibitionists and their voyeuristic counterparts. “I certainly hope so,” she sighed, “I have to make up soon. Somehow.” Harry gazed over her features as Sophie continued looking out aimlessly at the group. She understood this was supposed to be intimidating, and certainly was a safe place to discuss things free from police investigation, but Sophie found the entire spectacle unforgivably boring. Harry wondered how long they must remain when Sophie grabbed his forearm and took a short step forward. “May I borrow your biro?” She asked with a sudden zeal that intrigued him.   
Harry reached into his inner pocket, producing his Kingsman pen and offering it to her. “Thank you,” she called, her eyes shining as she grasped the pen and began walking across the room. Harry was unsure whether or not to follow, but remained behind when she failed to turn back to him. He watched as she accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, adding the poison to the champagne and priming it as she walked directly to her target. Harry tried zooming in ahead of her, his glasses scanning as the image registered. Harry watched as Sophie walked straight to Albert Theophilus through the crowd and watched her hand him the champagne. Theophilus took the champagne without looking up, assuming she was another waitress. Sophie said nothing until he sipped the drink down, sitting on the armrest of his chair and slipping over it into his lap. “Well, hello there!” Theophilus cried, not recognizing Sophie after so many years. Sophie turned and looked into his eyes, holding the lapels of his jacket as she inched her lips to his ear. “My name,” she whispered, “is Sophie. Not Honoria, and now - now it is over.” When Sophie pulled back from his ear, she drank in his terrified expression before she brushed the hair from his brow and gently kissed his cheek.   
Harry watched as she smiled, slid off his lap and walked away. Her expression was electric, and she walked directly to him before she pulled her cigarette case from her inside pocket. She pressed the second button on the case, holding it for ten seconds before returning it to her coat. “He is still staring at you,” Harry informed her. Sophie smiled, her back to him. “What a queer way to spend one’s final moments.” She replied, lending her ear to the sounds in the club. When she heard the faint cry from the cloak room, she depressed the charge on the pen and handed it back to Harry. “Thank you very much,” she said. “We should go right now.” Sophie started for the door, and Harry asked, “Shall I collect your coat?” Sophie grasped his hand, pulling him along. Once at the door, the commotion grew and there was an alarm as Sophie continued through the door and down the street to dodge the crowd and fire service. She ducked into an alley, stepping down from the raised paths and into the flooded street. “Your overcoat is on fire,” Sophie explained, “Dreadfully sorry about that.”  
As if to punctuate the evening and Sophie’s already soaked calves, rain began falling over them and Sophie laughed as Harry stood in the rain seemingly unaffected. They both listened to the commotion from streets over and Sophie rested against the wall to catch her breath, trembling in the rain. “How good did it feel to finally get that bastard?” Harry asked, his tone damning and powerful. Sophie moaned, rolling her eyes up to the sky and buckling her knees for a moment as Harry watched. “So. Bloody. Good.” She answered, her breath quickening. The rain had smoothed her hair back and smudged her mascara but Harry had never wanted more than in that moment, with her beaming and feeling powerful. He stepped down into the flood, soaking his trousers and shoes and making Sophie laugh again as he walked to her. He caressed her cheek, and there was simply no stopping them from embracing for a completely ill-advised and desperately craved kiss. It should end there, they both know it, but as Harry pulled back from her Sophie whispered, “Don’t stop. Harry, please.”  
Sophie’s voice was soft and needing, and it vanquished Harry’s resistance. Six months of being so close and yet completely cut off from his beloved had caught up to this moment, and once Sophie called his name everything else seemed to disappear. Harry grabbed Sophie’s thighs, pinning her against the wall and pressing to her. She released a broken breath, wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck as he released her legs and reached between them to open his trousers. Sophie kissed his lips, squeezing to him as the rain streaked down her upturned face and Harry held her hips to guide himself into her. Her hushed moans enticed him further as he kissed her neck and pressed to her. “Oh my love,” Harry whispered into her ear, grasping her ass as she bucked against the wall and pressed her hips to Harry’s as he thrust in short bursts. His arms slipped up to her lower back, cradling her as her grip on his neck loosened and she leaned back against the wall. It was primal - frenzied and brief as Sophie heard the sirens and shook from the spell that had ensnared them both.   
“Galahad,” she muttered, stopping his caresses as he looked up into her eyes, “we have to go.” Harry sighed, nodding his understanding as he gently lowered her back to her feet. Suddenly aware of their location, Harry turned to the wall to put himself together as Sophie smoothed her skirt while checking for anyone at the end of the alley. Retrieving her cigarette case, she turned back to Harry and offered it to him. “There’s a wipe inside which should remove any lipstick that might remain,” she explained. He smiled, accepting it as Sophie collapsed onto the ground before emerging again immediately. “That ought to do it,” she said, blowing the water away from her mouth as she wiped her hair away from her face. She nodded at Galahad as they returned to business, “Let’s go.” Harry offered her cigarette case back to Sophie before stepping back onto the elevated sidewalk and out of the floodwater. He offered his hand to lift Sophie up before they began walking toward the apartment. “It’s the job, you know,” Sophie confessed, “and you tell yourself it does not matter, that it is not real and when I know you have...carnal directives I think nothing of it.” Sophie stopped, navigating in the spring rain, “I know you love me and that is all I care about.”   
Harry listened silently as Sophie reasoned aloud and they walked along. “But when I do it, it feels different. I feel unfaithful to you, and knowing I shouldn’t doesn’t help.” Sophie stopped under the eave of a neighboring building, opening the case and retrieving a cigarette. She took one slow pull from it after lighting it and exhaled. “I hate these things,” she said with a defeated sigh, “and I hate that part of the job.” Tears welled in her eyes and she glanced at Harry before turning back and taking another drag. “I want to go home,” she said sadly, “and not mine.” Sophie was trembling. It took everything within him to not try to hold her, so he instead offered, “Then let’s go solve the case.” This resolute reply made Sophie smile, sniffing as she flicked away the cigarette, nodded, and returned to the journey. The rain stopped by the time they reached the apartment and as Sophie slipped out of her heels, carrying them to her door she found Lucia at her doorway. Lucia took one look at her sopping form and gasped, “What happened?” she implored as Harry walked ahead and unlocked the door.  
“What hasn’t happened tonight?” Sophie cried in frustration, “The coat room in that ‘club’ caught fire and then some old man had a heart attack. Thank goodness Leonard got me out, but then…” Sophie’s lip quivered and a lump formed in her throat and she sniffed and continued, “We tried to get ahead of the crowd and I fell in the flood and then no cab would take a drenched person in the rain.” Sophie cried for a few seconds, her shoulders heaving as she walked through the threshold. Lucia rested a hand on her back, pulling it away as she realized that Sophie was completely drenched. “You must be freezing,” Lucia said kindly, “let’s get you out of those clothes and into a warm shower.” Sophie dropped her wet shoes at the door and stumbled toward her bedroom as Harry called, “I shall bring you a tea straightaway, Miss Ryan.” Sophie didn’t acknowledge him at all, but as she disappeared into her room Lucia turned back to Harry, thanking him for his thoughtfulness. Harry nodded he appreciation and returned to the kettle as Lucia returned to the bedroom. Sophie was sitting on the toilet, sniffling but motionless.  
Lucia turned the shower tap, warming the water before returning to help Sophie. Sophie stood, slowly peeling her wet clothing away as she leaned against the sink. “I’m so sorry we fought,” Sophie cried. She shivered, her nude form meek and Lucia held her close. “I love you,” Sophie sobbed softly, her eyes peering vacantly over Lucia’s shoulder as Harry left the pot of tea on her bedside table quietly. Lucia shushed her, leading her to the shower to warm herself. Sophie stepped in dutifully, but didn’t release Lucia’s hand. “Are you cross with me?” She asked gently. Lucia smirked, leaning into the shower and kissing her. “I like you fiery,” Lucia replied playfully, “and you were so sexy tonight I wanted you immediately.” Sophie laughed softly, blushing at the remark. She pulled away, tilting her head back into the warm water and washing the makeup away from her face. “Stay with me tonight?” she requested. Lucia smiled, turning to exit the bathroom as Sophie lathered her hair and contemplated her next strategy in the brief moment of privacy.   
From his room, Harry placed his wet items onto the radiator to dry them enough to be packed. He tried to ignore any sounds coming from the neighboring bedroom, but he was plagued every time he did. Hearing Sophie speak candidly about hating these experiences was far worse than simply knowing she was in them, and Harry was deeply ashamed of breaking protocol with their tryst. He knew that they could not work together in this capacity any longer. He folded his clothing, laying each piece into his case as he resolved to continue monitoring the case from London, where they could work at a distance. Harry told himself that it was his failing, that he simply wasn’t meant for deep cover and long term missions. He didn’t want Sophie to think this was in any way her fault. She couldn’t think that, so he planned to write her a full explanation once he was on the plane back to headquarters. Harry stopped, trying to think of any reason he needed to remain for Sophie. He closed his eyes, resting his hands on the closed trunk before he tapped his glasses to report his return and request collection from his rendezvous point. Harry collected his trunk, stood in the hall for a few moments, and then left the apartment.


	8. Chapter 8

Sophie stirred, gently lifting from Lucia’s sleeping form and creeping from the room. She was certain that she had succeeded in smoothing things over with Lucia, and the ruse should have given ample opportunity for Merlin to trace the location of the storehouse. After so many months of waiting, this might finally be the break they had been working toward at long last. The previous night had taken a toll on Sophie, who was trying to ignore her feelings of emotional burnout. It was dreadful and dangerous for the cracks to show, and so unprofessional for her to have enticed Harry for that stolen moment. Sophie knew this, but as she made her tea she found that she felt no shame for her actions. One cannot have shame in the trenches: it serves no purpose. Sophie closed her eyes, resting the cup against her lips and remembering his breath in the rain as she held to him. Simply recalling the moment rejuvenated her, and she remained in blissful contemplation until she heard footsteps coming down the hall. Smiling at the hope that it was Harry, Sophie kept her eyes closed until she heard Lucia’s voice. “Buongiorno,” Lucia cooed, “how did you sleep?” Sophie opened her eyes, mocking a yawn to avoid the question.”

“I wonder what’s become of Leonard?” Sophie muttered, setting her teacup onto the counter and placing a kiss on Lucia’s cheek. Lucia turned to the cabinets in search of coffee as Sophie left the kitchen to check on Leonard. She rapped on the door, which opened at the force and Sophie saw that it was empty. As she took in the absence of his case and clothes, Lucia met her at the doorway. “You have no coffee,” Lucia chided, “I see Leonard went back to London last night?” Sophie didn’t turn back to Lucia, trying to understand this departure. She scanned her glasses for a message, but to her bemusement found nothing awaiting her. “He should have reminded me,” Sophie mumbled, “and I am certain there is plenty of coffee at your house my love.” Lucia crossed her arms in a huff. “I was invited here,” she challenged. Sophie smiled wryly, turning to face Lucia and hiding her hurt behind her smile. “No, I mean we should just go to your compound. After last night, I’m ready. Let’s live together.” Lucia’s surprised joy was immense, throwing her arms up and around Sophie as she kissed her. Sophie brushed the hair from her face, smiling at her and kissed her again as her eyes scanned her glasses for any message at all from Harry. 

Lucia’s mobile rang from Sophie’s bedroom, drawing her attention away from Sophie and as she pursued it Sophie remained in Harry’s room. She looked around a second time, sighing softly in confusion as to his lack of notice before he left her. _Did he leave because of me?_ She wondered as he looked at the neatly made bed in the empty room. She was certain there must be some explanation, but not having it made her angry. Sophie heard Lucia speaking from the bedroom and closed the door, walking back to the kitchen to finish her tea in silence. After several minutes, Lucia returned to the kitchen to find Sophie. “When shall we begin moving?” she asked. Sophie swallowed her tea, setting the cup down before she shrugged. “Whenever you like. I’m ready. I don’t want to keep you from important work though.” She hugged Lucia, nuzzling her neck as she moaned softly. “I will call and have someone pack anything and move it over. You can be home with me tonight.” Lucia explained, leaning into Sophie as she nibbled her neck. Sophie giggled happily in response, squeezing Lucia close to her as she nibbled her neck. 

“Come,” Lucia instructed, pulling from her, “let’s go to lunch and then you can come to the compound and make yourself at home.” She grasped Sophie’s hand and pulled her toward the bedroom to get ready, “After we get you settled in, I have a surprise for you.” Lucia teased, pulling her into the bedroom and closing the door happily. Within the hour, they both emerged polished and ready to meet the day. Sophie left her key with Lucia’s guards as they left the apartment and continued their day and leaving the business of moving her things to Lucia’s crew. Sophie tried to reach Merlin several times, but was never able to slip away from anyone long enough to connect with any privacy. Frustrated, Sophie sent a simple message to Merlin:

No confirmation from Galahad. Please confirm arrival.  
New base established. Request tracking report and intelligence.

Sophie waited for return communication as she and Lucia returned to the compound and Sophie began unpacking and settling in.

It was several hours later when Sophie’s glasses chirped and she ducked into the bathroom to trigger the scrambler and answer the call. With the tap flowing, Sophie touched her communicator and whispered, “Yes Galahad, can you hear me?” She listened as the call returned, only to discover Merlin addressing her. “Guinevere, this is Merlin. We have had no contact with Galahad. He’s not responding to our communication. We have prepared a team to deploy to the location from the tracker, but have not deployed. The location was too signal dense to ensure confirmation.” Sophie listened to the information, turning it over in her mind silently. She was seized with concern as to Harry’s whereabouts, but knew she must address the mission first. “Signal dense? What could be causing the disruption of your readings?” she asked. Sophie looked at her watch, gauging time on the call as she considered anyone who might interrupt her. “It looks at though the location is near a broadcasting or radio tower. The signal is being disrupted by feedback channels.”

That’s when Sophie put all of the pieces together. “They aren’t changing the paintings,” she admitted, “they’re reframing them. Merlin, they’re using the paintings to listen in on the owners - to gather secret information.” Sophie heard someone coming, and reached to hide the scrambler. “Try to locate all the paintings on the list - we will need to deactivate the recording equipment. I’ll neutralize the threat here, and if..” Sophie stopped, correcting herself, “when Galahad reports, please have him notate the arrival into the dossier please. Closing the communication channel now.” Sophie switched off the scrambler, tucking it into her wash bag and leaving the bathroom to return to unpacking when she was interrupted by an enthusiastic Lucia. She handed her a glass of champagne and kissed her before toasting the day. “Finally together,” Lucia said happily, “and I have something special for you just for the occasion.” Sophie flashed a weary smile. “I received a message from my London office,” she informed Lucia, “Leonard hasn’t returned. He isn’t answering his mobile. I’m worried, it isn’t like him.”

Lucia wrapped a supportive arm around Sophie’s shoulders, and Sophie looked at her with genuine worry in her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she assured, “I’m certain he is capable. If we don’t hear from him very soon, I’ll send out my own crew to investigate. The important thing is that you feel safe here.” Sophie smiled meekly, nodding in response. “What do you have for me?” she asked flirtatiously. Lucia wagged a finger at her as she sipped her champagne. “Not yet. You continue to unpack and settle in, and when I’m finished with business I will take you to see our next commission. It’s going to the White House.” Sophie’s mouth was agape in surprise, “In America? That White House?” Lucia smirked proudly, blinking but saying nothing as she walked to the door. “Mamma…” Sophie purred, opening her case as she gazed at Lucia. “Soon we will be an empire, and you shall be my empress.” Lucia lingered, looking her over for a few idle moments before leaving her to complete her unpacking in the master suite. Sophie watched her leave before taking her news into consideration. She scanned the trunk, and removed her tactical undergarments in case she needed them that night.

 

Once Sophie was dressed, she took advantage of the privacy and placed all of her false identification into her washbag, setting the charge and priming it into her glasses. She removed a few items Edwin had asked her to test, placing them into her clutch before she checked her reflection and left to meet Lucia. She knew her focus on this evening was critical, yet she found it difficult to focus. Her thoughts drifted to Harry’s whereabouts, her lack of communication from Merlin, and how this entire rambling mission seemed to leave her dissatisfied at every turn. Some days this job can be a real pain in the ass. _I’m stopping something terrible,_ Sophie thought to herself, _This is the business of making the world a better place._  
Sophie met Lucia, who stopped directing her crew as she entered and focused her attention on Sophie. “Ready to go, my sweet?” she called as Sophie hugged her from behind and squeezed her affectionately. “Yes. Sorry it took me so long my love.” 

“Think nothing of it,” Lucia said calmly, “but before we go I need something from you.” Sophie nodded and Lucia took her hand and walked through the foyer to a security door and keyed in the security code. Sophie noted the distinct shift in design once they crossed the threshold, setting her nerves on edge as they entered a corridor that descended beneath the compound and opened to a large empty chamber. “Is this one of the original catacombs?” Sophie asked, in awe of the construction, “Oh Lucia, it’s beautiful!” Sophie scanned the interior, her glasses making a technical rendering as she feigned amazement. Lucia nodded, taking her hand as her guards filed in behind them and went to a large metal watertight door. Sophie watched as they worked together to turn the large wheel and open the waterproof seal. Sophie watched curiously, Lucia still holding her hand as the door creaked and slowly opened. “We need the seal,” Lucia explained softly, “these chambers flood regularly. That is why I have such a strong door.” Sophie nodded, her expression still a bit puzzled as the door opened to reveal Harry. 

He was on his knees, bound and gagged inside the chamber and Sophie gasped as soon as the light from the doorway filled the darkened space and exposed him. “This answers my first question,” Lucia said, releasing her hand and stepping into her view, “You really weren’t expecting to see him. Your shock is evident.” Sophie’s horrified stare left Harry and met Lucia’s cold gaze, “Why would I be expecting this? Why are you doing this?” Sophie’s voice was barely audible, so light it almost broke against the words as she uttered them. Her eyes watered as her confusion radiated from them. Lucia stepped closer to Sophie, holding her chin to study her face as she trembled in bewilderment. “If I’ve done something,” Sophie pleaded, “please don’t punish Leonard for it. Punish me.” Lucia laughed at this, cupping her hands around Sophie’s face as she soothed her. “Oh, Tesoro...you are so trusting. This is why we have to do such things.” Lucia turned to one of her guards, waving him over to remove Harry’s gag. 

“Miss Ryan knows nothing of this,” Harry said sternly, “leave her out of it, Romano.” Lucia crossed her arms, laughing spitefully at Harry’s attempt to protect Sophie, who looked from one to the other in confusion. “Leonard has worked with me for five years,” Sophie reasoned aloud, “he’s saved my life. What could he have done?” Lucia fixed her eyes on Harry, keeping her back to Sophie as she responded confidently, “His name isn’t Leonard. Isn’t that right, Harold?” Sophie held her breath, attempting to bury any reaction as she considered whether or not to simply take out all of the subjects in the room right then. With everyone focused on Harry, Sophie looked at him, signalling an intent to attack Lucia when he blurted out, “No. It isn’t.” Sophie took his instruction, as did Lucia, who turned to face Sophie proudly. “He’s an imposter, and has been lying to you since the beginning. Who knows how many secrets you trusted him with!” Sophie nodded, looking to the floor to avoid catching the gaze of either of them. “You lied to me?” Sophie demanded, looking angrily at Harry. 

In that moment, Sophie Hollander held her breath and prayed. She prayed that no matter how the next few moments played out, Harry knew her actions and her thoughts well enough to understand her motives. Then she prayed that she wouldn’t have to see him die, or that she died instead if it came to that. _Keep him safe Lord,_ she thought, _Please._ However, there was no way to know if her hopes were heeded when she opened her eyes. Perhaps that’s why she was shaking, which appeared not from fear but rage instead. She looked back at Harry this time, her plan clear in her mind but her eyes dark and angry. Her expression elated Lucia, who placed a pistol in her hand but said nothing. Sophie felt the cold metal heavy in her palm as her hand gripped it and sank to her side. She held it in her hand, foreign and inelegant as she stared at him. “I never meant this to hurt you,” Harry offered, knowing this chatter served only to protect Sophie regardless of the outcome, “I’m sorry, Miss Ryan. Truly. It was never personal.” Sophie gripped her hair, shaking her head slowly in disbelief, “I’ll not hear another word!” she demanded, her voice shrill.

Squeezing the gun in her grip, Sophie stormed over to Harry. She lifted his chin and punched him with the gun, knocking him cold. Harry lay on the ground, unconscious before Sophie as she looked at the gun in her hand. Before anyone could comment, a pained cry poured from her as she leaned over Harry. She threw the gun behind her, kicking his body and losing her heeled shoe in the scuffle. She stumbled back, looking down at him as Lucia grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into her embrace. Sophie turned to her, hiding her face against Lucia’s neck as she wept in frustration. As Lucia consoled her, one of her henchman approached to shoot Harry and finish the job. “Wait,” Sophie called out, “Don’t.” Sophie wiped her eyes and sniffed loudly, drawing their attention away from Harry’s body. “You said it floods? Did you mean completely?” Sophie asked flatly, “Because if that’s so I want him left in it. He’s bound, trapped and the last thing he might see is my shoe.” Sophie looked deep into Lucia’s eyes, knowing her performance was the only thing saving Harry’s life. “Let him drown.” 

Lucia squeezed her proudly, and Sophie kissed her passionately before they left Harry in the chamber. Sophie gleefully turned the heavy wheel, slowly bolting the door until it was watertight before stumbling and leaving her other shoe behind. Then they all left the catacombs and returned through the corridor to the main house. “Are you ready to see the next painting, partner?” Lucia cooed lovingly to her. Sophie blushed, nodding happily before she looked down at her feet. “Oh, just...let me change my stockings and replace my shoes?” Sophie asked, “Maybe wash my face as well. I want to look my best for you.” Lucia kissed her hand, dismissing her as she walked quickly to the bedroom. Once Sophie closed the door her tone completely changed, however. Triggering her scrambler, she tapped her glasses and called, “Customer Complaint Line.” She listened to the short rings before the comforting British voice answered the line, “Good evening, customer complaints. How may I assist you?” 

“The Kipper requires a skiffle,” Sophie said, “Kipper Solitaire.”  
“I understand.” The voice replied.  
“This skiffle is whipping the cat,” Sophie said calmly, “My oxfords must be resoled. Oxfords, not Brogues”  
“I understand,” the voice responded, “Would this be an in house alteration, Madam?”  
“No.” she replied.  
“If the Madam will refer to her receipt, collection will be made at next earliest convenience,” the voice said.  
“I understand,” Sophie sighed, “Thank you.”  
Sophie ended the call, peeling away her silk stockings as her eyes raced across the keyboard, putting together the message for Harry when he regains consciousness. As she slipped into her shoes, she completed and sent the brief message before switching off the scrambler and leaving to join Lucia.

Now Sophie had to stay close to Lucia, keeping her cover at least until the extraction team successfully reached Galahad and removed him from the compound. She reasoned that with the plot now known, she had enough information to trace the paintings and bread the spy ring that was stealing state secrets from...well, whomever. Sophie only hoped Harry woke soon and received her message, and that she could make up for that punch. One thing at a time. She met Lucia, who quickly ushered her out to the limousine and away from the compound. She was completely taken in by Sophie’s display of indifference, and showed her affections with newfound zeal as they traveled to the operation floor to observe this new acquisition. Sophie accepted each flirtation, waiting calmly for any message from Galahad or the extraction team as she sipped her champagne. She knew she should be focused in on the art, but her mind wandered to the mission at hand. Lucia squeezed her hand, and she flashed a happy smile as she examined the painting.

“So, this is going back to The White House?” Sophie asked as she admired the abstract painting. She lingered on the frame, allowing her glasses to take a technical scan of the newly installed digital surveillance equipment that Lucia’s crew secretly added. “Yes,” Lucia replied, “and once in place, it will join a dozen other works that we have strategically placed around the world. Our two years’ work is finally paying off, and soon we will be able to sell those secrets to the highest bidder. There’s nothing more valuable than information.” She stroked Sophie’s neck, making her giggle. “We could change anything,” Sophie whispered in elation, “we could start a war.” Sophie laughed darkly to herself, gently grinding against Lucia. “You’re so smart, Mamma,” Sophie gushed, “I can’t even get the Italian right.” Lucia kissed her cheek as she sulked quietly, turning her to see her face. “Without your business connections, I never would’ve been able to expand the surveillance.” This annoyed Sophie, and her face plainly showed it. “Why didn’t you tell me then? Why didn’t you trust me?” Sophie asked her.

Inside the catacomb, Harry stirred in the dark and tried to focus. His head throbbed, but more worrying was the small pool of water that had formed and his cheek was now resting in. Harry tapped his temple against the floor, activating the night vision setting to his glasses. On the screen, he read the message that flashed across his display:

The shoe, Galahad.  
Get the shoe.

Harry gripped the heel still in his coat with his elbows, pushing it up to his open mouth and biting it to grip it between his bound wrists. Breaking the heel away from the sole of the shoe, he discovered a small cache of tools and a blade to cut through the tape which was wrapped around his knees and wrists. “Thank you my love,” he whispered in the darkness as he worked cutting through the tape, composing a response to her as he worked.

“Like you trusted Leonard?” Lucia countered. Sophie looked at the ground and sighed. “Secrets protect us,” Lucia explained, “they keep our interests safe.” Lucia patted Sophie on her bottom as she walked away, ordering her bodyguards in Italian as Sophie heard a chirp inside her ear from her glasses. Turning back to the painting for cover, she tapped her glasses for the message:

Thank you, Guinevere. Chamber flooding, must work to escape.

Sophie noted the time, realizing the extraction wouldn’t make it to Harry in time to secure him before the chamber flooded completely. There was no other choice. While Lucia still had her back to Sophie, she fired a dart into her neck to knock her out and prepared to face the two bodyguards as she fell. As the first one grabbed her from behind, Sophie quickly released the blade from her shoe and kicked upward. The blade connected with his right eye, releasing the neurotoxin and killing him immediately.

Sophie looked at the other guard as the first one released her and fell to the floor. She cracked her neck as she stared at him, making a fist and activating her signet ring before tapping her glasses. The guard rushed her, and she scowled as she engaged him. When Merlin answered, Sophie slid the blade back into her heel and said simply, “Continue with planned extraction. I’ll meet you there. I’m going to get Galahad.” With that, she stepped over the bodies and continued to the exit alone. Within the chamber, Harry’s glasses lit up, and Harry read the message on display:

Relax Galahad. I’m coming to get you.


	9. Chapter 9

Sophie lay across the seat of the car, stripping the wires in the dark. She figured she had less than an hour to get Harry out of the chamber before it filled with water. She tried not to focus on Harry, alone in the dark as the water seeped in; instead clearing her mind as she rubbed the exposed wires and started the engine. As it turned over, Sophie licked her lips and slowly sat up before checking the area and pulling away from the site and back to the compound. Sophie began formulating a plan as she drove, stopping outside the compound and confidently ringing the bell. “I don’t have my key yet,” she assured the guard as the door opened, “Lucia remained behind on an important call, so I just popped in to grab something before dinner.” She walked confidently past him, rifling through her handbag as he nodded and closed the door. Once closed, Sophie triggered her signet ring and grabbed the neck of the guard to subdue him. She left him on the floor, not wishing to waste any time unnecessarily before liberating Harry from the basement.

Sophie returned to the bedroom and triggered the umbrella release from her trunk. She grabbed the umbrella, locking the trunk down and activating the tracker beacon for the secondary extraction team. With the brolly firmly in her grip, Sophie descended the stairs and continued through the foyer to the security door. Sophie pulled a small compact from her purse, opening it and blowing the loose powder across the keypad to examine the keys. She attempted to recall the pattern of Lucia’s motion as her fingers swept the keys before attempting to mimic them herself. She grinned as her attempt proved successful and the door opened, allowing her to continue through the corridor and into the main catacomb. Sophie knocked on the large metal door with the umbrella, hoping to receive a message in return as she slowly turned the wheel only to find the weight of water made the task an impossible one. She stopped, resting her forehead against the door and noting the lack of response as her rage stirred within her. For that moment, the breath lodged in her throat and she felt trapped - as though the door was the other side of life itself.

Snapping back to herself, Sophie dumped her clutch onto the ground and snatched up anything useful. With her mind racing, Sophie stripped the wrapper from a tampon, casting away the cardboard to retrieve the lump of semtex that Edwin had hidden for her. Kneading it as she worked, Sophie grasped her lighter and molded the semtex around it. She then triggered the lighter and stuck it to the door before she scrambled across the room to the corner and covered her face. The explosion was brief, as the door swung open and water rushed into the larger room. Sophie turned back, rushing to Harry as he spilled through the doorway on the wave. She turned him onto his back, checking his pulse and breathing into his mouth before she began chest decompressions. Sophie’s hands trembled as the cold water pooled around them and she continued with the exercise. “Come on Galahad,” she whispered, “Breathe for me.” She heard the first guard key the access code to approach and retrieved her pistol from her brassiere, firing a single shot as he rounded the corner and killing him outright while her focus remained on Harry, who began coughing at long last.

Sophie gratefully rolled Harry onto his side, rubbing his back as he coughed and took a laboured breath. She listened, hearing steps overhead, and noted that it couldn’t yet be the extraction team. “Come with me,” she instructed, lifting Harry and walking him to the corner of the room farthest from the entrance. She counted her ammunition when she looked at the umbrella and tried to gain some sense of the number of targets approaching. Harry sat on the floor, breathing slowly and coughing occasionally as Sophie took stock. “The umbrella,” Sophie asked him softly, “Edwin said it was flame retardant, or flameproof?” She reached into his coat, searching until her hand grasped his lighter and removed it. “He’s...Edwin,” Harry replied with laboured tones. Sophie smiled at this, touching his cheek tenderly as she crossed her knees and tucked herself into the corner. “My thoughts exactly,” she replied, squeezing his hand and pulling it to guide him. She opened the umbrella, extending it overhead as Harry slowly slid against the wall and pressed himself against her. 

Sophie lowered the umbrella, allowing Harry to grasp it and shelter both of them as they huddled together and listened to the footsteps in the dark. Sophie touched her forehead to his, looking back as the nearly a dozen guards filed in. She then looked deeply into his eyes, triggered the lighter, and threw it beneath the umbrella. The guards saw the device slide out from the huddle, slicing through the pool of water before meeting their feet and detonating. Sophie cried out inexplicably at the blast, and Harry squeezed her in one hand as he gripped the shaft of the umbrella. After the blast, Sophie spied her discarded heel as Harry lifted from her and she left the corner. She helped him to his feet and placed her pistol into his hand. “Keep this,” she instructed, “I’ve got something.” Harry nodded, coughing as he accepted the weapon and covered the entrance while Sophie broke the heel away from shoe and walked to the entrance. While stepping over bodies she activated the heel with a click and tossed it into the corridor, where it bounced a couple of times before exploding in a flash of plasma and coated the remaining henchmen. 

Sophie smirked, “Good old Edwin,” allowing Harry to lead as calmly walking through the corridor uninterrupted. “The extraction team should be here any time now,” Sophie explained, “Once outside, we can regroup and await the team. If we are separated, do not wait for me. I will meet you. The most important thing is that you receive medical care.” Harry traced his hand along the wall for stability, nodding as he moved to the foyer and out of the corridor. Sophie fell behind, doing a final sweep to ensure there were no lingering henchmen to follow him before she moved to exit the corridor when she was grabbed at the doorway. Sophie felt the blade enter her back, the blade piercing her with a searing pain as it plunged deeply into her. “Shhh...tesoro.” Lucia soothed, pressing the blade up between her ribs to pierce her lung. “I’m leaving this here. I want it to hurt to your last breath,” she seethed, “just like betrayal.” Lucia buried the blade to its hilt, releasing it and pulling Sophie by her hair as she winced at each breath. She threw Sophie against the wall of the open foyer, watching as Sophie struck the wall and cried out in pain.

“You betrayed me...for an assistant?” Lucia demanded, “A man?” Sophie coughed as Lucia paced, “You risk what we have, and throw it away for this? Siobhan?” Sophie looked up as Lucia’s voice broke in her frustration and she pleaded, “We love each other.”   
Sophie clutched her side and took a deep breath to steady herself. She straightened herself and replied, “Era un lavoro, Lucia. **Eri** lavoro. Questo è tutto.”   
(It was work, Lucia. **You** were work. That’s it.)  
Sophie’s easy with the language stopped Lucia, who glared at Sophie in bitter confusion. “You speak Italian?” she asked, in mild disbelief as the reality set in. Sophie sighed, a dark laugh flirting in the back of her throat. “Of course I do,” she replied flippantly, her dismissal sending Lucia into a rage. 

Lucia lunged at Sophie, throwing two punches before Sophie could block the blows with her forearms and counter with a knee to Lucia’s stomach. Lucia crumpled at the blow, stepping back and hugging her midsection before groaning loudly and charging her again. She deflected Sophie’s block, landing several elbows to Sophie’s arms and face as she pushed her back toward the wall. Sophie rushed Lucia, hugging to her in a running tackle and dropping her to the ground. Lucia attempted to buck upward and throw Sophie off, only to fail as Sophie drew her knees up over Lucia’s shoulders and forced her down with all her might. Though Lucia continued to writhe against Sophie, Sophie was able to lift from her while keeping her pinned under her knees. She sat upright, delivering punch after punch to Lucia’s face and chest while holding her down to the ground. Her knuckles bloodied and she coughed a fine mist of blood over her as slowed to catch her breath in the onslaught. 

Lucia claimed this opportunity, springing forward and grasping at the knife which remained in Sophie’s back. The effect was immediate, as Sophie arched back and rolled off of Lucia. Now free, Lucia scrambled to her feet and pounced on Sophie as she remained on all fours and attempted to rise onto her feet. Lucia kicked her in the shoulder as she attempted to rise, dislocating it and sending Sophie back down to the floor with an anguished cry. “Hai buttato via il nostro amore per niente. Lo ucciderò dopo che te ne sei andato, quindi questo era inutile.” Lucia spat, “Mi hai amato, so che l'hai fatto. Tra le mie braccia? Nel mio letto? No on può essere così falso.” Lucia stood above Sophie, her voice filled with a confused and bitter hurt, but Sophie knew that the only path here was resolution. There was no forgiveness to seek, and drawing her out could only jeopardise her fellow Kingsman. “I never loved you,” Sophie admitted, spitting blood onto the floor as she gripped her shoulder, “you are a villain, Lucia.” Sophie looked up at her, and for a fleeting moments she felt badly as the rejection washed over her face and was replaced by rage. 

Lucia lifted her leg, intending to drop it over Sophie’s shoulders when Sophie lifted and punched her in the groin with all her might. Lucia tumbled to the ground and growled painfully, giving Sophie time to tuck in her knees and push herself onto them. Once standing, Sophie cracked her neck before grabbing her shoulder and setting it back into place with an angry roar. Sophie struggled to breathe, spitting more blood onto the floor as Lucia slowly stood up. She laughed at Sophie, walking over to her and gripping her shoulders firmly. As Sophie winced, she backed her toward the wall and held her sore shoulder until tears streamed down her face. “I am a villain?” she whispered maliciously, “You are the goddess Umbria.” Sophie held her laboured breathing as Lucia leaned close to her and whispered, “I love you, and you were only deceit.” Sophie lifted her head, connecting her lips with Lucia’s and kissing her softly. She opened her eyes, and when she saw Lucia’s were closed, Sophie stomped her instep and brought her forehead down into her face forcefully.

Lucia crashed down to the ground, and Sophie looked around to calculate her next move but the pain in her chest was beginning to overwhelm her. She took her stand, reminding herself that Harry is safe, and this mission is a success. No matter what happens now, she has succeeded in foiling this plot. Sophie smiled as she thought of this, clutching her midsection and leaning her hips back against the wall as she tried to take a deep breath against her coughing. Lucia began to stand, and Sophie resolved herself to this most fatal point in the fight and hoped she’d come out on top as Lucia stood and took a single determined step toward her. Just then, there was a deafening burst in the room and Lucia’s head turned swiftly to the right before she crumpled to the floor. Sophie clutched her ear to soften the piercing tone as Lancelot emerged through the corridor in full tactical gear sparing his face. He quickly swept the room as Sophie leaned against the wall, rushing to her once he was certain it was secure. “Galahad,” she called out, “did you get Galahad? Is he safe?” Her voice was raspy and her breathing laboured, and Lancelot assured her that he was safe. 

Relieved at the information, Sophie’s knees began to buckle and she slid down the wall slowly. Lancelot saw the blood on the wall behind her as she doubled over and grabbed her sides. “I have a knife...in my lung…” she explained. She trembled and nearly fell away from him as Lancelot lifted her in his arms. “Can you reach the pistol at my shoulder? We may need it.” Lancelot asked gingerly. Sophie grasped the pistol in her hand, turning to look out and nodding to signal her readiness. Even as she nodded to him, Sophie coughed and Lancelot noted her glassy eyes and pale skin. He gripped her tightly, radioing ahead as he carried her through the corridor and onto the rendezvous point. From there, the secondary extraction team swept the house, spraying over her blood to destroy evidence and gathering her trunk and personal items. Within an hour, there would be no trace of either Galahad nor Guinevere anywhere in the compound or the apartment. They simply disappeared. 

Lancelot arrived at the airstrip, lifting Sophie in his arms and carrying her onto the plane. At the back of the plane was a medical unit, where Lancelot gently laid Guinevere onto her side. He stood back as Merlin peeled away Sophie’s blouse to assess the damage from the blade. Lancelot averted his eyes, not wanting to leave her but wishing to spare her modesty. Sophie lifted her head, looking across to the other cot where Galahad lay on oxygen support. “Harry…” Sophie choked out, still bleeding as she whispered to him. Harry opened his eyes, rolling to face her as Merlin continued to wash the blood from her back. “I canny remove this now. It’s unsafe,” he explained, “We’ll stabilize you and once we land you’ll be taken care of. Don’t worry.” Sophie’s gaze never left Harry as she replied, “I’m not worried. Thank you, Merlin.” Sophie reached across the space as Merlin placed the oxygen mask over her mouth, and Harry laced his fingers between hers. 

Merlin strapped her down to prevent movement during takeoff, and then announced to no one in particular, “We will check on you once we stabilize. There is no surveillance here in sickbay, you understand.” Harry looked to Merlin, who gave a gentle nod in affirmation before taking Lancelot and leaving them alone together. As the engines began whirring, Sophie grasped at her mask before Harry stopped her. “Don’t, my love.” he soothed, “You need that. Remain calm and let the IV assist you so you don’t bleed any more than you must.” Sophie stopped, draping the hand with her IV across her stomach as she remained on her side. She looked across at him, her hand still reaching out to him as he lowered his own oxygen to speak directly to her. “Canary…” he said lovingly, “Oh my love. We cannot work together.” His eyes connected with hers, and Harry flashed his radiant but mischievous smile. The warmth bloomed in her cheeks and she smiled as she shook her head in agreement with the sentiment. She waved her fingers idly, and Harry grasped them again, holding to her hand and the plane took off and she tried to relax. 

“I love you Harry,” she whispered, her voice strained from her sore throat. She tried to breathe deeply, wincing at each attempt. “Is the pain terrible?” Harry asked, “I could shout for something to ease it for you.” Sophie squeezed his fingers as much as she could, shaking her head. “I might rest just now,” Sophie said wearily, the adrenaline fading now that she had relaxed, “please don’t let me go.” Harry looked past her at the electrocardiogram, then to her tired and glassy eyes. “I won't let you go,” Harry replied, “I promise you. Rest Canary, and I will be right here until we land.” Sophie watched as he replaced his oxygen mask before slipping out of consciousness with a deep sigh. Harry remained on his side, his fingers gripping hers, studying her face as the journey continued. There was a loud beeping which sounded from Sophie’s monitors and alerted Lancelot, who returned to examine Sophie. “I’m sorry Harry,” he remarked, stepping between them and examining her blood pressure. He administered a shot which seemed to calm the machine, and replaced the hand which Harry had held to her side. 

“Is she alright?” Harry asked, lifting to a sitting position and trying to see past Lancelot to glimpse her face. Lancelot grabbed a stethoscope and walked around Sophie to listen to her back. “The knife pierced her lung, which has collapsed,” he explained, “and her blood pressure has dropped a bit lower than we like, but we have almost arrived. As soon as we land, we will take her straight into surgery so it’s best she remain sleeping for now.” Lancelot looked to Harry, grateful to be there for his friend. “Don’t worry,” he assured, “she’s going to recover.” Harry stood, walking over and resting his hand over hers. He drew a long, slow breath before he cleared his throat. “Thank you, James.” he said simply. His gaze never left Sophie, and though he wished to caress her cheek he refrained in such company.   
“You should get out of that wet suit,” Lancelot advised, “you’d feel much better for the landing in something warm.” 

Harry ran his thumb across her bloodied knuckles and shook his head. “Not just now,” he replied, “I’ll freshen up while she’s in care. So I’ll be around when she wakes.” Lancelot nodded, stepping back and taking his leave. “Prepare for landing,” Lancelot called, “we’ll be making final approach soon.” 

 

Sophie stirred, opening her eyes and settling on the hand still gripping hers. She smiled, tracing it up to the owner as he sat faithfully by the bed. “I must admit,” he said pleasantly, “I haven’t been holding it the **entire** time.” Harry smiled, his eyes shining as Sophie chuckled softly. “We cannot work together,” she replied with a healthy giggle. Harry raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in reluctant agreement. He leaned over, his face near hers and whispered, “I can know and accept it without reservation, but I do not wish to ever witness those lips greet another’s lips again.” Sophie smiled with a wry pride, “My my...jealousy suits you.” Harry lifted, pausing as Sophie looked up, batting her large green eyes innocently at him. He hummed softly, leaning in to place a single soft kiss upon her forehead. “I am very relieved that you are recovering.” he said softly, releasing her hand and returning to the seat beside her bed. “I also thought you might like to see this,” he offered, lifting a single issue of The Sun for her to examine. Sophie glanced at the front page, reading the headline:

“We Don’t Mean To Gloat, But…”

“It’s ours,” Harry beamed, “our cover together. I shall add it to the wall as soon as I return home.” This delighted Sophie, who also seemed overjoyed to be included in his ritual. “I’m honored, truly,” she gushed as she noticed the date. “July the seventh? Is that the date?” she asked. Harry glanced back at the paper momentarily, “No, actually. That’s the day you saved my life,” he remarked, “Two whole days ago.” Sophie attempted to sit up, groaning softly as Harry set the paper down and gently lifted her. He propped her pillows and adjusted the bed so she could sit up properly. “Thank you for that,” he whispered, kissing her hand as she settled into position. “Well, I don’t mean to gloat…” she quipped, giggling to herself as Harry looked at her, amused. “I must keep you about,” Sophie reasoned, “who else would my heart beat for?” Harry stood there, his adoration abundant in his expression. “I’m going to make you a lovely cup of tea,” he announced, turning from the bed and walking to the corner of the room and switching on the kettle. Sophie watched his broad shoulders as he handled the kettle with his back to her.

“Would you marry me Harry?” Sophie asked, her voice soft and vulnerable in a way that always stirs Harry deeply.   
“I believe we already agreed to that, Canary,” he replied humorously, pouring her tea and walking the cup over to her bedside. He set it onto her table and rested his hands on the side rails of her bed. Sophie stirred the cup to cool it down, her gaze fixed upon it as she pushed the spoon.  
“No, I mean today,” Sophie clarified without looking up, “marry me today Harry. Please.” Sophie lifted the spoon from the cup, resting it in the saucer before she took a brief sip and glanced up at him. “I am sick of not being your wife.” Harry looked at her passionately, cupping her cheek in his palm and leaning in to kiss her when a knock at the door interrupted them. Harry took a discreet step back before Sophie called for the guest to enter. The door opened and Merlin stepped in with his clipboard. “Ah, awake I see,” he commented, “how are we feeling, Guinevere?” Merlin checked the machines, and lifted Sophie’s wrist to take her pulse. 

“Well,” Sophie replied, “hoping to leave today in fact.” Merlin scribbled onto his clipboard silently for a moment. “I don’t think that’ll be possible,” Merlin admitted, “we need at least one more day to be certain everything is coming along. Shouldn’t be too much longer, so long as you follow out instructions to heal once home,” Merlin looked from Harry back to Sophie before returning to his notes, “which I’m sure you can help her with.” Harry blushed and looked down while Sophie leaned in, “You know, don’t you?” She looked to Merlin hopefully, while Harry collected her teacup and returned it to the kettle.   
“Maybe I’ve noticed a glance once or twice, but I couldn’t really say either way,” he responded, looking up at her with a smile, “Your secret is safe with me. Whatever it is.” Merlin set his clipboard down and retrieved a couple of gloves from the dispenser on the wall. “If you’ll excuse us, Galahad, I need to change Guinevere’s bandages.”

“Tomorrow?” Sophie asked hopefully, turning to her side as she asked Harry.   
“Tomorrow is the tenth,” Harry reminded her as Merlin laid out fresh bandages and prepared. Sophie sighed, considering his point. She looked bemused by this new information, and Harry hated seeing that look upon her face. “Very good then,” he said confidently, “tomorrow. I will message you the location. You sort yourself and meet me there once released.”   
Sophie smiled, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, can’t wait. Thank you Galahad.”   
Harry tapped her hand twice before bidding goodbye to Merlin and taking his leave. Sophie relaxed onto her side to allow Merlin to work without interference. “Tomorrow sounds exciting,” Merlin commented, peeling back her bandage and gently checking her stitches. Sophie squirmed slightly before replying, “Yes. Very.” Sophie lay there for a moment, thinking. “In fact,” she commented, “we’ve known each other a very long time, Merlin. Years, in fact. Could I ask you a favor as a friend?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding is finally here!
> 
> Planning two more stories in this series, so stick around :)

“How on Earth did you find a bridal shop open on a Sunday morning?” Merlin asked as they left the taxi together. Sophie paid the driver before turning back to him. She wasn’t completely recovered, but she said the words to Harry and she meant them. She wasn’t going to allow pain to keep her from Harry, even if the idea of getting married made her somewhat lightheaded. “It was the funniest thing,” she replied, “I told the lovely fellow on the phone that I would add one thousand pounds to his commission, and the shop just opened up.” Sophie shrugged, switching arms with her handbag before she knocked on the shop door. “It’s quite remarkable,” she concluded.  
“You’re quite the negotiator,” Merlin remarked at her description as the door opened to welcome them inside. The shop was essentially closed, but the clerk had a small rack of grey dresses pulled beside a small dressing room. “Grey?” Merlin asked, glancing over the rack. Sophie removed her trench and laid it with her purse. “It was just a feeling I had,” Sophie whispered, “I mean, there’s no such thing as a canary yellow wedding dress so I just thought…”

“Yellow?” Merlin asked as they stood waiting for the clerk to return from the stockroom. Sophie gave a dismissive wave. “It’s nothing,” she commented, looking through the dresses and selecting the first one, “I suppose I should try them on.” She turned to the dressing room, seemingly in a daze as she ducked inside with the dress in her hands. “If I may say,” the clerk said as he emerged carrying more dresses, “grey is an inspired choice. There aren’t many here in stock, but this is going to be all the rage in a few years. I can feel it.” Sophie slipped into the first dress and grimaced into the mirror. “Yes, well,” she responded, “we are tailors. We have a sense where the trends will go.” She reached through the curtain, handing the first dress back and requesting the next. “Aww, and you’re eloping! How exciting!” The clerk gushed, handing the next selection through the curtain. “We’re not eloping,” Sophie explained with a laugh, “I received a last minute invite to a fashion expo in Paris. I need the dress to compliment a new suit design we hope to exhibit. I leave tomorrow, so I need the dress today.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow at her ruse but said nothing. Sophie let the dress settle over her head but looked at the mirror and sighed. “This one isn’t right either,” she muttered to herself before shedding the gown and standing in her panties. She examined her bandages in the mirror and for a moment she felt too damaged to make a beautiful bride. Her head ached, but she wanted to be married so much, and had for so long that no matter what it took she was going to make it happen at long last. “How does it look?” Merlin asked from beyond the curtain. Sophie sighed before handing the second dress through the curtain to the clerk. “I dunno,” Sophie responded halfheartedly. Merlin noted the tone to her voice and accepted the dress before intercepting the clerk. He stood in front of him, looking down at the clerk and whispered to him, “Have you no training? She’s 1.6 meters and lithe, half of these dresses are too long, with her skin tone she needs something off shoulder, and…” he huffed softly, “is this satin? These are all wrong.” Merlin commanded the clerks focus, pulling several dresses from the rack and rejecting them immediately.

“Lightweight fabric. Off the shoulder. Tea to floor length.” Merlin instructed, “Chantilly veils. Go.” As the clerk nodded and returned to the storeroom, Merlin walked over to the curtain and leaned against the wall. “Just another moment. He’s bringing more choices.” Sophie smiled at his command of the situation, feeling much relieved at his certainty. “How did you know we were together?” Sophie asked. Merlin scoffed loudly, a low hum in his sigh before he answered. “You weren’t exactly subtle,” he laughed.  
“Yes we were,” Sophie countered, “We were very discreet! Secret agent discreet!”  
“Really?” Merlin mocked, “With the only two encrypted sets of reading glasses? With Galahad logging into your dossier almost every night before midnight only when you’re away?” Merlin leaned against the wall, satisfied at Sophie’s silence, “I know what his bathroom looks like, Guinevere.”  
“I see,” Sophie said sheepishly, “that doesn’t answer the bigger question here, however.”  
“Which is?” Merlin replied.  
“How do you know so much about dresses?” Sophie giggled, peeking from the curtain.

 

In Fulham, Harry and Lancelot sat in the back of Sophie’s small church, listening as Rev. Hislop concluded his sermon to the extremely small parish. Lancelot looked around the small chapel while Harry kept his focus fixed on Hislop, hoping this request would prove an easy one but certain it wouldn’t be. “Well, it is an out-of-the-way spot,” Lancelot commented, “any particular reason it needs to be this church?” Harry tilted his head to acknowledge Lancelot’s whispered question while still watching Hislop chatting with the lingering parishioners. He wanted everyone gone before he made his request. “It’s for Sophie,” he answered simply, “this vicar raised her, and if I know my wife this will prove very important to her.” Harry uncrossed his legs, leaning forward and resting his hands between his knees, “She can be sentimental when…” he commented, realizing he didn’t wish to share any further. Lancelot looked at him as the sentence faded, pausing as he contemplated Harry’s earlier remarks. “Wait, raised her?” He asked, “Soph is an orphan? She never told me that.” 

Harry couldn’t decide if he hated the nickname, or merely hated hearing James use it. Of course, he’d never object to Sophie having friends within the agency and he would never raise a complaint even if he did. That didn’t mean Harry failed to notice the way he looked at her. Even from a fellow Kingsman and a personal friend, Harry found it unbecoming. “Sophie is a Kingsman,” Harry replied flatly, standing to cinch his coat, “we are her family. But...when she was seven, her parents died in an accident. So she came here, and lived with him.” As if to rescue Harry from a conversation he wished to avoid, Rev. Hislop walked over to him and peek around his shoulder. “Hello again, Mr. Hart,” he greeted, “what brings you here today?” Harry turned from Lancelot, smiling as he faced the vicar. “If you’re looking for Sophie, I haven’t seen her in months.” Hislop explained, “Work or some such thing. You’re not here to tell me about another fabric related emergency I hope.” Hislop smirked, walking back to the pulpit and continuing past it before calling out, “Come along to my study. We’ll have a nice cuppa and you can explain what brings you after so long.” 

Harry glanced at James and both men followed the vicar to his office. There he switched on his kettle and offered them both a seat as he dropped the bags into each cup. “I am sorry to arrive simply to ask a favor of you, but it is for Sophie so I was hoping you could help.” Harry began, finding himself nervous and oddly surprised by it. “Sophie and I wish to be married…” Hislop poured the kettle into each cup, delighted at the news, “Well, that’s wonderful news! Might I suggest the fall? Not a traditional time, but I am sure we could squeeze you in, or does Sophie have a date in mind?” The vicar walked the cups over, offering them to the men before taking a seat at his desk. He opened a large ledger and thumbed through several pages as Harry grasped the cup and cleared his throat. “She does have a date in mind,” he clarified, “today. I’m asking you to marry us today.” Hislop’s eyes trailed up from the ledger, meeting Harry’s gaze as he looked over his bifocals. “That’s out of the question,” he replied, “Sophie should know that. I can’t even perform a reading of the Banns on the day. It’s most out of the question.” 

There was a disappointed silence between the two Kingsman following this, which Hislop noticed. “Where is Sophie?” he asked curiously, “Why isn’t she here, making her case in person?” Harry was sipping his tea, and before he could swallow Lancelot offered, “She’s recovering, but should be here soon.” This immediately drew Hislop’s attention and he closed his ledger and leaned forward. “Recovering from what?” he implored. He looked from Lancelot to Harry before Harry set his teacup down and answered, “That’s classified, I’m afraid.” Harry looked to the floor, perhaps from shame, and Hislop noted the urgency in his tone as he appraised the request with the new information. “On her birthday? That doesn’t seem like Sophie.” Harry took another sip of the tea, looking up from the floor to respond. “She didn’t realize it was her birthday, or indeed a Sunday, when she asked me.” Harry smiled as he remembered, “she simply woke from her surgery, took my hand and asked that we marry as soon as she was released. That’s why I’m here.”

“From surgery?” Hislop confirmed, “What sort of surgery?” Both Kingsman set their cups down, answering in unison, “Classified.” Hislop removed his bifocals, setting them onto his ledger as he considered the request. “When I met you, several years ago, I asked you one simple thing.” Hislop began, looking at Harry, “I didn’t ask about your business, nor did I question your intentions with someone dear to me; I only asked for your word.” Harry looked deeply into his eyes, “And I have done everything possible to keep her safe since that night. I have kept that word, as I promised you I would try to do.” Lancelot looked between the two of them, his expression puzzled. “Are we not going to acknowledge the obvious here?” Lancelot interjected, drawing looks from both men, “Sophie is leaving recovery. We are planning a marriage, not a funeral.” Lancelot licked his lips, a slight smile mixing with his furrowed brow and he continued, “Your daughter... is **amazing**. She doesn’t need anyone to keep her safe,” Lancelot sat up, gesturing with his hands, “and if she is ever in danger, we will always be there. To help her.” 

“The Banns…” Harry mused, “what we do is about sacrifice. Sophie sacrifices being here, with you and with me because she believes that her sacrifice is for a greater good. If people knew about her life, it would endanger her. She wouldn’t want such attention.” Harry blinked, as though pondering his own point as he rose to his feet and approached Hislop’s desk. “I came here as a courtesy, because your being a part of this would please my wife. Because being there for her might prove meaningful for you. However, I have given my word and I have never broken my word to Sophie Hollander. So, if this request proves something you cannot or will not do, it’s best that I simply thank you for the tea and press on because this day will end as I have promised. I will find someone to hear us and I will pledge my troth and become her husband as she has requested.” Harry’s tone was solemn, and Hislop could read his sincerity plainly. “You already think of her as your wife.” Hislop observed, and Harry slowly nodded. “Since the engagement. This is my own fault - I should have married her a long time ago.”

 

“Oh Hamish,” Sophie gasped, looking into the full length mirror in the small dressing room. She had tried on a dark grey dress of silk organza, with a band of wide Chantilly which bordered the top and wrapped around her shoulders. It was an unusual wedding dress, but as soon as Sophie saw herself in the mirror she knew it was the one. “Are you ready?” she asked timidly through the curtain. Merlin looked up from the selection of veils that lay before him as the curtain parted and Sophie stepped into view. Merlin looked up, rising to his feet as she stood before him. He stepped past the table and over to Sophie, taking her shoulders in his hands and holding her at arm’s length to survey her selection. “Do I look pretty?” Sophie whispered, a slight quiver in her voice. Merlin lifted her chin gently with his fingertips and replied kindly, “Aye.” His response seemed to overwhelm Sophie, who took a step back and braced her stomach with her palm as she took a calming breath. “Thank you Hamish,” she said softly, “for everything. For everything.” She nodded slowly, turning back into the dressing room to remove the gown and change.

“Have we found the perfect dress?” the clerk inquired hopefully, carrying a box over as Sophie ducked into the dressing room. “I believe so,” Merlin informed him, “how quickly can you dye this veil to match?” Merlin looked over his shoulder to ensure discretion before looking at the clerk, who read his expression and pursed his lips. “I could dip it, but it would need to dry thoroughly, which could take an hour or two. Is it necessary to have it today?” Sophie’s glasses chirped, and she emerged from the dressing room holding the dress and reached to retrieve them. Slipping them on, she read the message as Merlin continued negotiating with the clerk. He stopped as a choked laugh escaped Sophie’s lips, and turned to face her and collect the dress from her arm. “He sent the location. We have to be finished by 3pm,” she explained vacantly. Merlin passed the dress to the clerk to box and finalized his instruction as Sophie slowly lowered onto the chaise lounge in disbelief. “I’m getting married today,” she whispered to no one in particular. Merlin looked at her, an encouraging smirk on his face. 

“It’s half twelve now,” Merlin informed her, “take the dress and go ahead to the location. You have your supplies, so do your hair and makeup and I’ll meet you there with the veil once all is done here.” Sophie nodded, furrowing her brow as she listened, “Should I not get a second dress? Just in case, perhaps?” She looked up to Merlin, her confusion and nervousness written on her face. “I believe this is an occasion where you’ll only need the one,” Merlin joked, “unless you plan to marry me as well.” Sophie smiled as his jest, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “Go on then,” Merlin instructed softly, “I have everything in hand here.” Sophie opened her eyes and Merlin tilted his head to the side, urging her on her way. She nodded, standing to remove the envelope of cash from her purse and hand it to the clerk. “Just a moment, I’ll write your receipt.” The clerk said, setting the boxed gown on the counter. He opened his sales ledger only to have Sophie stop him. “That won’t be necessary,” she said, “I’m paying cash for everything. One less thing to keep up with.” 

“I still need to add your information,” the clerk explained, “for our records. It’s Guinevere, is it?” Sophie smiled, “Yes, but put Gwen. That’s what everyone calls me. Guinevere Kesslord.” She looked to Merlin as she grasped her Kesslord handbag and the dress box. “I’ll attend to it from here,” Merlin announced, “forward me the address.” Sophie nodded, turning to leave the shop and hailing a cab to Fulham. She began sending the address back to Merlin as he selected the veil and filled out the registry. “You said it could be ready in 90 mins?” Merlin asked, examining his watch. The clerk examined the color and nodded, “Is this a number where you can be reached?” the clerk asked flirtatiously, “if say, one wanted to brush up on style with a proper tailor?” He looked up and down Merlin as he commented, “I’d be a very attentive study.” Merlin blushed despite himself looking down momentarily before replying, “Let’s see how that veil turns out, then we’ll see.” 

 

Sophie clutched the box, peeking in the door of the chapel before slipping into it and looking for any sign of Harry. “Your gentlemen aren’t here,” Hislop called, “they said they will be back around 2pm.” Sophie clutched her dress box, seeming to shrink on the spot as she looked out at him. “You look well,” he commented, noting her stoic demeanor as he walked past her and continued to his study without further comment. Sophie followed, clutching her box to her chest as her large handbag swung from her elbow. “Sit,” Hislop offered, waving to the leather chair beside his desk. Sophie had never sat in that chair, and slowly walked over before setting her box and handbag onto the floor beside it. “I hear you are recovering from surgery,” Hislop asked her as he sat at his desk. He crossed his hands and leaned back in his chair, looking across at her as she settled into the soft leather chair. “Yes,” she answered succinctly, resting her hands over her knees and smiling back at him, “but I’m feeling much better now.” She wondered what Harry had told him, and was struggling to read Hislop as they sat together in the familiar silence of his study. 

“And now, you wish to marry,” he continued, “today. Without any proper ceremony.” Hislop opened the side drawer to his desk and lifted a bottle of brandy which he poured into his tea in a healthy measure before he took a sip. “Good Heavens child, why?” he asked, “You know, I never took a drink like this before you came along.” There was a mischievous glint in his eye as he took another sip and Sophie laughed aloud at the remark. “Stop it,” she chided with a great smile. For a moment, there was silence before Hislop asked softly, “Why, Soph? Why must it be today?” Sophie stared at the desk, wanting to give the question proper consideration before she answered it. “May I be completely honest with you?” she asked. Hislop sipped his brandy thoughtfully, “Please do. My boss is quite fond of it, in fact.” He smiled and Sophie nodded and cleared her throat, “When I was saving his life a few days ago, a criminal pressed a knife several inches into my back and punctured my lung. It hurt, quite a lot.” Sophie paused, attempting a meek smile as Hislop stared back at her seriously.

“My first thought was: get him out, keep him safe, and then you can die;” she continued without emotion, “but then I remembered that it wouldn’t be his name they carved on my headstone.” Sophie shook her head, as if that fact were a disappointing hand of cards. Hislop said nothing, pouring a second dram of the brandy and setting at the end of the desk for her. Sophie reached for it with a subtle wince, lifting it and murmuring, “Thank you.” She took a sip, rolling the brandy over her tongue before concluding, “Our souls are the same mettle. Whenever we are apart, I’m only ever holding my breath until we are together again.” She smiled, which seemed to light up her entire face - as though the idea of him filled her with some unearthly glow. “It’s far harder to hold your breath with just the one lung.” Sophie meant it as a joke, but mirth had left Hislop. He understood her urgency in a very real way now, but he worried over this woman that he would forever see as the seven year old girl he took in so many years ago. “Will you give it up once you are married?” Hislop asked.  
“No,” Sophie answered flatly.

The resolution in her voice stopped the conversation immediately. Sophie took another sip of the brandy in the silence, studying the elegant wood paneling in the study. “No children someday?” Hislop tried at last.  
“Not in the cards,” Sophie said calmly, her glance not leaving the paneling. She was certain and not sad at all about the admission. Hislop nodded slowly, suddenly grateful to have the time with her. He thought of Harry’s declaration earlier, considering how Harry must know the danger she is in far better than he. He considered what it must be like to love and be faithful to someone when you don’t know if you’ll ever see them again. Hislop had no idea what Sophie did, but the ease with which everyone she knew seemed to accept risk humbled his curiosity. Whatever it was, they were devoted to it and to one another in it. “You can use this study,” Hislop explained, “there’s a loo in the back, and you will have privacy to change and ready yourself. I’ll tell Mr. Hart when he returns that you are here.”

“Thank you,” Sophie said kindly. Hislop stood, walking to the bookshelf and producing a shaving mirror for her to use. “I have a study group at 4pm, so we should try to be finished by 3:30pm if possible,” he explained. Sophie nodded, standing and lifting the dress box. Hislop left the study as Sophie opened the box and tossed the crepe to the side to expose the dress. She turned to her side, checking the bandage as she removed her blouse and lifted the dress from the box. She draped it over the couch in the office before opening her handbag and removing each item of makeup and laying them out to prepare.  
She was almost completely finished applying her makeup when there was a knock at the door. “Come in please,” she called without looking up. The door opened as she painted her lips and Merlin stepped into the room. He was wearing his traditional tartan and was carrying two boxes. “Hello Hamish,” Sophie said happily, “I’m not quite dressed yet, but I’m almost done. Did you have any luck with the veil?” Merlin averted his eyes from her as he lowered the boxes. 

“Just one moment,” Sophie assured him, ducking behind the bookcase with her dress to quickly change. She stripped her bra and slipped the dress over her before stepping out and back to Merlin. “Do you mind?” she asked, presenting the zipper. He drew it to a close and she turned around to shake the layers of organza free. Merlin grabbed the larger box and walked it over to the desk. He lifted the lid and gestured for Sophie to take a seat. Once seated, Merlin lifted a group of small rosebuds. He began weaving them together, adding a yellow one to the group of lavender roses in a sparing interval and he braided them together and wrapped tape around the stems to hold them in place. Sophie merely watched, overwhelmed by his delicate work. “I have sisters,” Merlin said, “When you asked how I know about dresses? I have three younger sisters.” Sophie smiled as he continued to form the crown. “I see,” she replied happily. Merlin clipped the tape and stepped behind her, gently placing the crown on her head and pinning it behind her ears. Once it was secured, he turned to the smaller box and lifted the veil. 

“Ohh…” Sophie squeaked out softly as Merlin gingerly draped the veil over the flowers and framed her face. Sophie took in her reflection, trying to keep her tears at bay. “This mascara is not waterproof,” she confessed with a soft chuckle. Merlin returned to the florist box, arranging the remaining flowers when there was a call from the door. “Perhaps I can help with that,” Rev. Hislop offered, stopping as Sophie stood and turned to him. “Good Heavens,” he muttered as she looked up. He brought her a small box and placed it into her hands, “You’ll forgive me, I wasn’t expecting to need it today, but I finally located it.” Sophie gave him a puzzled look as she opened the box. Inside was a handkerchief with an intricate needlepoint around the border and the initials, ‘W.H.’ sewn into the corners. “Your mother used to make them during the service. She began when she was pregnant with you,” he offered, “I thought it could be your ‘something old’ perhaps.” Merlin wrapped the floral tape around the remaining flowers, forming a bouquet as Sophie clutched the handkerchief to her cheek. 

“The veil is something new,” Merlin added, “a gift from me.” He handed the bouquet to Sophie and she smelled them blissfully. “I am wearing something blue,” she reasoned aloud, ignoring a glance between the men, “but nothing borrowed. Oh well.” Sophie shrugged when Merlin thought for a moment. “Just a moment,” he mentioned, quickly leaving the room. He ran to the chapel, where Harry and Lancelot waited for word. “James,” he called, “give me a pound.” Lancelot checked his pockets before producing a pound coin and handed it to him. “You’re lending this to the bride,” he informed him, “should be any minute now lads.” Merlin turned and left the two, who straightened and took their place at the head of the pews. “If I don’t get the chance to say this later,” Lancelot commented, “you’re a very lucky man, but I couldn’t hope for anyone better for Sophie. I hope you are very happy for a very long time.” Harry faced him, shaking his hand warmly as Hislop returned to them. “Thank you my friend,” Harry replied warmly. Hislop kept their attention, affording Sophie a private moment to light a candle for her parents and pray.

Merlin adjusted her veil and took her arm. “Ready?” he asked. Sophie nodded excitedly, turning to begin her procession. She spied Harry as he turned to face her and was dumbstruck by her glow. He was considerably underdressed for the occasion by his standards, with a tie omitted and the top button of his shirt left undone, but these bits of imperfection stirred Sophie deeply as she admired them. They reached the end, and Merlin stepped to Sophie’s side as Harry gently lifted back her veil and and gazed upon her face. For a moment, they merely shared a lengthy and adoring stare, as though no one else existed. “In very short order, I have been made aware of the devotion and commitment these two have shared for a most impressive period of time,” Rev. Hislop began, “and for that reason I am not going to lecture or advise on the tenants of devotion, sacrifice, and love. For they radiate from you both, clearly.” Sophie smiled intensely as Hislop paused, referring to his book of prayer.

“Repeat after me please,” Hislop said, reciting the vows to Harry. Harry nodded, but his intense gaze never left Sophie as he repeated, “I, Harold Hart, take thee, Sophie Elizabeth Hollander, to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.” Harry grasped Sophie’s hand as he finished, squeezing it for emphasis. Hislop turned to Sophie, who stopped him. “If it’s alright,” she requested, “I know the vow. I don’t need to repeat it.” Hislop waved her on, and Sophie responded, “I, Sophie Elizabeth Hollander, take thee, Harold Hart, to be my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.” Hislop shrugged happily, “She was listening all this time,” he mused.

“Do you have the ring?” he asked Harry, who produced his mother’s ring and slipped it onto Sophie’s trembling finger. “With this Ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” Hislop closed and Harry took Sophie’s face in his hands and kissed her softly, parting to the cheers of their closest friends. “Oh my love,” Harry gushed as he look at her, “How beautiful you are. How beautiful you **always** are. Thank Heaven for you.” He pressed his forehead to hers and pulled her close as the others stepped away to give them a moment of privacy to share. “Do you ever think of getting married?” Merlin asked Lancelot, “I’m not against the idea, but Kingsman certainly doesn’t approve. I don’t know if I think it would be worth it.” Hislop sniffed audibly, drawing Merlin’s attention. “They certainly seem to think it is,” he replied, gesturing to Harry and Sophie. “Do you think of it?” Merlin asked again. Lancelot watched as Harry held Sophie and she laughed. “Not anymore,” he replied simply.

Harry squeezed Sophie close to him, intoxicated by her. “I mean it, you know. I’d die for you,” she said dreamily. Harry raised an eyebrow, “Let’s not let it come to that, Canary,” he replied, “I live for you. In fact, since we are here and making vows: I give you my word as your husband that I will never again go away without leaving word and not come back.” Sophie looked up into his warm brown eyes and said, “I’ll take your word. I will always wait for you.” Harry responded by kissing Sophie deeply, swaying her in place as he tasted her lips. He admired her flowers, gently sniffing them as he complimented, “I love your dress. It’s not at all what I was expecting.” Sophie beamed, pulling back to look down at it, “Hamish,” she admitted, “he found it. He was remarkable." Sophie rested against Harry’s chin and he looked over her at Merlin, granting him a thankful smile as he nodded in return. “I love it too,” Sophie murmured, “I never want to take it off.” Harry kissed her temple, “What a shame,” he replied silkily, “but the Havisham look...I like it.” Sophie giggled as Harry squeezed her to him until she winced, when he released her quickly.  
“You smell so wonderful, Canary,” Harry purred, “I want to whisk you away to some dark corner and have my way with you. Do you know one?” Harry nuzzled her ear and she sighed, “You reprobate. I thought we didn’t go for base fornication?” Sophie chuckled to herself playfully as Harry reasoned, “Well, you started it. What am I supposed to do in defense of your many charms?” Sophie nested her chin in her palm as she considered his question with mock sincerity. “I think you should take the lads out for a celebratory pint. I have things I have to collect before I return home. So, buy them a drink. It’s the least we can do for all their help.” Harry looked over at his friends as though he were being sent into battle. “So it’s come to this,” he bemoaned, “I’m being sent away. To the boozer, no less.” Sophie giggled at his pitiful expression, a blush forming in her cheeks. “We have forever,” she asked, “what is your rush?” Harry blinked slowly at the obviousness of the answer, his charm effervescent. “Have you seen my wife?” he replied. 

Harry caressed her face gently for a brief moment before straightening his shoulders and smoothing his coat. “As you wish,” he said simply, kissing her hand and walking over to his fellow Kingsmen. Sophie watched as Harry made the invitation, waving farewell as they filed out of the chapel, leaving Sophie and Hislop alone together. “You have your meeting,” Sophie remembered, “I’ll collect my things and be off.” Hislop followed her to his study, switching on his kettle as she removed her veil and placed it into the box. “We have time for a cup of tea if you would like one,” he offered. Sophie smiled, returning the makeup to her small zippered bag before placing it into her handbag. “That would be lovely,” she replied, “thank you.” As he prepared the tea, Sophie thumbed through the newspapers scattered on the corner of his desk, stopping when she recognized Romano’s photograph. She scanned the story, which reported about the body of the notorious crime boss being found, linked evidence of an international espionage ring in her Italian compound. Sophie sighed, her pride fleeting at the information.

“Leave all of that here for now,” Hislop ordered, “you can collect it another day.” Sophie nodded, setting the boxes into the corner and returning to his leather chair. Hislop set the tea before her and sat behind his desk, slowly enjoying his tea in the silence for a few moments in silence. “Your recent injury isn’t a common one I hope,” Hislop said, speaking out into the room and not directly at her. Sophie often wondered if he was including the Lord in these conversations. She preferred to think, or hope perhaps, that He had better things to do. “No,” she lied with a subtle smile, “not common. Most of my work is actually quite boring in fact.” Hislop stirred his tea as he listened, taking in her demeanor, “You make it sound like an office job. Can you give me an example of a boring day?” Sophie’s smile faded as she looked at his desk. “No. I cannot,” she replied. Hislop nodded, “Well, at least you aren’t alone. Just promise me that having this man in your life won’t inspire unnecessary risks. You’re someone’s wife now. You need to come home to him, so I hope that as your life changes so too will your priorities.”

Sophie tried not to be offended by what she was sure was meant as kind words from a concerned relation when it occurred to her how to best calm his worried mind. She grasped her teacup, opening her lipstick and tracing a finger over it as she sat in thought. “I’ll tell you what inspires me,” she replied, “I think of the just, and of the teachings of the church. I think of the trilogy of redemption. Some people might think of the prodigal son or the lost sheep, but I think of the lost coin and how the pursuit of what is lost is noble work.” Sophie focused out at nothing, tracing her finger over the bottom of the cup as she spoke, “There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner repenting.” Hislop smiled despite himself at her connection to those teachings, “Are you the woman in that parable?” he asked. Sophie’s eyes connected with him as she answered seriously, “I am the lamp.” 

Sophie stood, walking over to the desk and stopping by the papers. “Then again, there’s a good cup of tea,” she explained, “You hold it and feel its warmth radiate into you. No matter how grand the problem or complicated the question, if you just stop and enjoy a good cuppa the answer will come to you - like a big circle being drawn around the answer.” Sophie sipped the last of her tea, setting the cup on Hislop’s newspaper before smiling at him, “You should try it sometime. Thank you for today.” Sophie abandoned the cup, lifting and tucking her dress to protect it as she stepped into her heels and slipped into her trench coat. She fastened the coat closed and checked to ensure the dress was completely covered. “Don’t get up. I’ll leave you to your meeting, and I’ll be back for the boxes before I return to work.” Sophie lifted her handbag, smiling as she looked back at him, “Thank you again, for everything you’ve done for me today. I love you.” Sophie pursed her lips, gave a small nod and then in a dismissive way turned and left the study. 

Hislop shook his head at her exit, finished her tea and stood to return both teacups to his small sink when he noticed the ring left by her cup on his newspaper. He leaned over it, reading about the underworld leader and her plan to steal state secrets before he looked up at the door where Sophie had left him. “The lamp,” he mumbled, lifting the paper and tucking it into his desk before his group could arrive. He stood pensively in the quiet of the church, remembering what she had told him before he nodded and left his desk to rinse the teacups in silence. He recognized that this was as close to the truth as he would ever reach, but he was grateful that she had found a way to give him some insight. He knew that she wasn’t alone, and that whatever she did was important. Hislop reminded himself that faith is about meeting the point where you cannot know all things and trusting in the promise beyond that place. He could not know any more about Sophie, but he believed in her. He had faith. Hislop washed the lipstick from the bottom of the cup, saying a prayer for her and Harry in his study before joining his group.

 

Sophie stumbled through her front door, setting shopping bags beside her stereo and carrying the small shopping bag of groceries to the kitchen. She set her tea onto the counter and turned with a small carton of milk to place in her fridge. She opened it, only to discover six bottles of champagne and a box from Fortnum and Mason inside. “Welcome home Canary,” Harry called through the pass through from the dining room. Sophie looked up, gasping at his shirtless form standing in his pajama bottoms as he walked to the living room. “Oh my,” Sophie said, swallowing hard at the sight of him. “You said you’d never take off your dress,” Harry commented, “I was hoping to see it again.”  
A giddy laugh rang from Sophie, who turned her collar up over her face and unbuttoned the coat as she opened it wide to show herself still wearing the gown. “Did you wear it to the market, Miss Havisham?” Harry asked, amused. Sophie struck a pose as she answered, “Everywhere, and it’s Mrs now.” 

“Yes it is,” Harry said seductively, “In fact, Mrs. Hart, if you’ll please follow me.” Harry offered his hand, pulling Sophie to the door and opening it. After she stepped back into the hall, Harry followed and in one smooth motion lifted her in his arms and carried her back across the threshold. “I’m going to do that everywhere now,” Harry said jovially, “People will stare and talk. It will match completely with your Havisham motif.” Sophie laughed as Harry gently kicked the door closed and lowered her onto her feet. “Are we to become one of those dreadful married couples?” she asked with a laugh. Harry raised both eyebrows, shrugging with a smirk, “Possibly.” He pressed his forehead to Sophie’s and they both closed their eyes blissfully. “I made you a birthday cake,” Harry whispered. Sophie furrowed her brow, “Is it my birthday?” Harry took her face in his hands, kissing her passionately as she wrapped her hands around his shoulders. He pulled the zipper down along her back, running his hands down into the gown and squeezing her soft skin in his grip. Sophie stepped out of the dress, backing away and turning to the kitchen.

“My love, your back is bleeding,” Harry called out, stopping Sophie in her tracks.  
“Oh no, not on the dress,” Sophie gasped, glancing over her shoulder but fearing to turn and face him. Harry checked the gown as Sophie whimpered. “Canary?” he soothed, “I will attend to the dress. No need to worry, but I will need to go rest until I can change your bandage.” Harry rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder and Sophie nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll meet you in the bedroom in few moments.” Sophie left him, stretching across the cool bedspread on her stomach and waiting for Harry to return. She closed her eyes, resting her cheek against the satin duvet cover when she felt Harry’s warm hand wrap along her side and brush the edge of her bandage. He sighed, giving a soft groan as he examined the bandage and blood. “I’m sorry, pet,” he said warmly, ripping the bandage away in one quick motion and making Sophie flinch. Before she could react, Harry was blotting the blood on her back with a cold, moist cloth and preparing Edwin’s special gel bandage to place back over her sutures to seal them. 

Harry grasped Sophie’s hips, gently twisting her onto her side to take weight off her back and flatten the space before placing the bandage. “You have broken a stitch,” Harry muttered as he pressed the gel into place, “but it doesn’t look serious. Edwin’s gel stimulates growth and circulation and helps minimize scarring. You’re going to be right as rain.” Harry stroked down her back and sides, sliding up to her and leaning over her. He caressed her cheek, lifting her face in his right hand and brushing his nose against hers. She lifted to kiss him, nibbling his lower lip as he teased his tongue against her and kissed her deeply. Sophie ran her fingers through his hair as he kissed her again and again. “Would you like a glass of champagne my love?” Harry muttered in between light kisses. Sophie moaned softly, not wanting to let Harry go. “Not just now, thank you,” she whispered, pressing forward to continue kissing Harry as his hand slipped from cradling her face and ran down her body. Harry lifted slightly from her face, watching her as his fingers slipped between her thighs slowly. “Say it, Harry,” she purred, “Please.”  
Sophie closed her eyes as Harry explored her, drawing his rough fingertips over her as he kissed her cheek and rested beside her ear. “Mrs. Harry Hart,” he whispered as Sophie moaned, “Mrs. Sophie Hart. Sophie Hollander Hart…” Harry laughed softly, kissing her temple before traveling down her neck and settling at her shoulder blade. He slipped his left arm under her and spooned her close to him as continued to stroke her. “Harry…” Sophie mewled, “I want you inside me now.” As she moaned, Harry pulled his hand from her and kissed her shoulder as he continued petting her body. With his left arm wrapped around her stomach, Harry grasped her legs and tucked between them. He reached into his pajamas and slipped from them, brushing against Sophie before his desire overcame him and he plunged into her. With their legs entwined, Harry’s hips met Sophie’s backside as he held her close and sank deeply into her. “Are you feeling alright, my love?” Harry coaxed, “This isn’t uncomfortable at all?” He grasped her hand as she shook her head and pressed her backside to him in encouragement.

Sophie spread her legs, pulling Harry closer to her as she softly moaned. “I can’t see you,” she whimpered blissfully, “I wish I could see your face.” Harry kissed her back a few times before slipping his arm from beneath her and sitting up. He kissed her side as he pulled from her, lifting her knees and turning around to face her. He gripped her ass, drawing her against him and entangling her legs with his as he filled her. “Much better,” Sophie cooed, tracing her fingers along his cheek as she bucked against him. “I adore you,” Harry confessed. “You wind me up inside and I feel lost and powerful and teased and complete,” he rambled, “all at once. I crave you so entirely that even as your husband I know I will covet your pleasure for the rest of my life.” Harry panted, driving Sophie’s hips over him with his left hand as it wrapped around her backside. “This is what I want,” he whispered, “every moment I am near you. I want to give you everything.” Sophie cried out and shuddered, kissing Harry and holding to his neck as she worked against him.

“Harry, I want you to know,” Sophie gasped, breathing heavily as she neared orgasm, “I never let her, or anyone down on…” Harry grasped her hand, kissing it before he shushed her. “Canary,” he soothed, “Your body is your own. Whatever you need to do when you are away, I understand and support you. You don’t owe me any explanation.” Sophie kissed him again before pulling back and finding his gaze, “I want you to know. I give that to no one else because I wanted something intimate that only you have.” She panted, her trembling growing in intensity as she repeated, “Only you.” Harry chuckled happily as he lifted her chin to watch her orgasm wash over her. “Canary,” he moaned softly, “I...have your heart.”  
Sophie hugged tightly to Harry as she came, squeezing him with her strong thighs. “Stay with me,” she pleaded, “oh Harry come for me. I missed you so much this year when you were right there. It was so hand to be so close to you and not be able to talk to you.” She continued until Harry wailed, hugging Sophie against her tightly as he came, releasing her and falling back onto the bed.

Sophie found Harry’s chest, and rested against it. “I love you Harry,” she said simply. Harry stroked her hair lightly, content with the world as she cuddled close to him. “I keep thinking of that elevator,” Harry sighed, “all those years ago.” Sophie looked up, confused, “How do you mean?” she asked, looking up at him with large, curious eyes. Sophie blinked slowly, and Harry continued, “If I hadn’t gone into the office that day, or if we had missed one another, would we have found ourselves together now.” Harry was smoldering as he reached for Sophie’s cheek, only to have her burst into epic laughter at his sentiment. “Oh Harry, really,” she cried, wiping a tear away, “you can be quite ridiculous at times, do you know that?” Harry looked at her, certain he’d dropped a clanger but unsure if he wished to compound his faux pas by asking her to explain it. Sophie continued to laugh, shaking her head at him. “I think you owe me cake for that,” Sophie announced, “bring me cake, my baking Adonis.” Harry smiled, standing and leaving the bedroom in pursuit of her birthday cake as Sophie ducked into the bathroom.

When she returned, Harry was banging about in her tiny kitchen and she smiled at the sound as she slipped into her silk negligee. She peeled back the duvet as Harry returned with a slice of the beautiful gradient layer cake on a tray and set it at her side. “Harry, it’s lovely,” she said sweetly. Harry beamed, peeling the foil away from the cage on his bottle of champagne as Sophie tasted the icing with a look of complete bliss. Harry popped the cork as Sophie took a bite and savored his wonderful creation. “Now I don’t wish to inflate your ego,” she began, “but that last comment simply begs for redress.” Harry offered the flute of champagne to her silently and she took a sip. “That’s divine together,” she remarked, “you must try it.” Sophie paused, knowing that Harry was hanging on her words and secretly enjoying his twisting for the moment. “You were wearing a dark blue tie with little white spots,” she remembered. “You were reading from a tablet, but you also had a copy of the Times folded under it when you left your locker. You looked at me, and you winced,” Sophie said, looking away as she smirked, “but when you shook my hand you were warm and gentle and very kind - a perfect gentleman.”

“I thought about that handshake all day. I wondered what it would feel like to hug you,” Sophie continued carefully, “to **more** than hug you. I thought about you in the shower, and also in bed.” Sophie licked frosting from the fork slowly, knowing it drove Harry to distraction to see it. “I wanted you the day I met you. I was…” Sophie blushed, sipping her champagne to give her a moment as Harry stared lustfully at her, “I waited for you in that elevator. I took it three times with Percival, just pretending I had forgotten something,” she laughed, “he must’ve thought I was drunk! I was simply nervous. I was about to tell a man I wanted him, and I had never done that before.” Sophie took a far larger sip of her champagne, then looked directly at him. “There is no possibility that we would’ve missed one another because I was only in the shop that day to speak with you before I went away. I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I want you now. That’s why I laughed.” Harry gazed into her eyes, and she smiled mischievously, “The falling in love was a nice bonus. So was all the cake.”

Harry walked over, refilling her glass before setting the bottle on the bedside table. He took the cake plate and tray, carrying it away as Sophie finished her glass of champagne and set the glass beside the bottle as he returned. “Did your cake absolve my terribly thoughtless remark?” Harry asked, bending down and lifting Sophie to shift her in bed and climb in beside her. “I wouldn’t say terribly thoughtless,” she joked, “merely oblivious perhaps.” Harry blinked quickly, considering her point. “Cake should more than cover a ‘merely oblivious’ remark,” he muttered affably, “tell me more about how much you desire me, because when a woman like you notices a man - he should stop everything and listen to her for as long as he can.” Harry reclined, ushering Sophie into his arms and rubbing her back as she rested against his chest. Sophie listened as Harry began to snore, gently lifting and observing him before she slid off the bed. She grabbed her stationary from her desk and sat at the end of the bed, wanting to document her immense happiness at the day. She touched the pen to paper and began, “Dearest Harry…”


End file.
